L  I  E>  R.AFLY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

or    ILLINOIS 

82.3 
RZ75 

Y.I 


7?«3:: 


m 


The  person  charging  this  material  is  re- 
sponsible for  its  return  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below. 

Theft,  mutilation,  and  underlining  of  books 
are  reasons  for  disciplinary  action  and  may 
result  in  dismissal  from  the  University. 

University  of  Illinois  Library 


JUL  U  ^575 

JAN  0  3  ma 

JAN  1  9  1533 


ym^^ 


m 


L161— O-1096 


v,» 


sw*^^ 


vvVawVK^    --:'  "* 


*>&^ 


.vv/'.'<-^ 


g:' 

iw 


^■' 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://www.archive.org/details/scalphuntersorro01reid 


THE     SCALP    HUNTERS. 


THE  SCALP  HUNTERS; 


ROMANTIC     ADVENTURES     IN 
NORTHERN    MEXICO. 


BY 

CAPTAIN  MAYNE  REID, 

AUTHOR  OF 
THE  "RIFLE  RANGERS." 


m      THREE    VOLS. 
VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

CHARLES  J.  SKEET,  PUBLISHER, 

21  KING  WILLIAM  STREET, 

CHARING  CROSS. 
1851. 


IV 


>i\ 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  BY  MYERS  AND   CO., 

22,    TAVISTOCK   STREET,    COVENT   GARDEN. 


2  at 

V.I 


■J 

<^  TO 

^COMMODORE    EDW.    W.    MOORE, 


1 


Texas, 


FROM  HIS  FRIEND, 


1 


1- 


THE  AUTHOR. 


^ 


PREFACE. 


About  a  year  ago,  I  submitted  to  the 
public  a  book  under  the  title  of  the  "  Eifle 
Rangers."  It  was  prefaced  as  "  truth 
poetically  coloured" — truth  for  the  ground- 
work, the  flowering  fancy — fact,  enamelled 
by  fiction — a  mosaic  of  romance  and  reality. 

Some  have  said,  that  the  "  poetic  colour- 
ing "  was  a  thought  too  vivid.  Perhaps  it 
was  so;  but  the  general  judgment  upon  that 
little  effort,  not  only  satisfied,  but  gratified 
me ;  and  to  you,  who  have  pronounced  in  its 
favour,  I  now  offer  "  another  of  the  same." 


Vill  PREFACE. 


I  shall  be  quite  content,  if  your  sentence 
upon  this  be  marked  by  no  greater  se- 
verity. 

I  regret  that  my  book  exhibits  no  higher 
purpose  than  to  amuse;  but  I  have  en- 
deavoured to  enamel  its  pages  with  a 
thousand  facts — the  result  of  my  own  ex- 
perience. I  have  endeavoured  to  paint 
scenes  of  a  strange  land,  as  they  are  painted 
on  my  memory.  If  you  cannot  believe 
them  true,  may  I  hope  that  you  will  ac- 
knowledge their  vraisemhlance  ? 

But  why  should  I  contend  for  their 
truthfulness,  after  declaring  myself  guilty 
of  no  higher  aim  than  to  amuse  you?  I 
will  not,  then.  Let  it  all  pass  for  a  fiction 
— a  novel,  if  you  will — but,  in  return  for 
this  concession  on  my  part,  permit  me  to 
ask  you — do  you  not  think  it  a  "  novel  kind" 
of  a  novel?  If  you  answer  this  question 
in  the  affirmative,  then  have  I  won  my 
purpose. 


PREFACE.  IX 

Before  going  farther,  I  have  two  words 
to  say — one  of  warning  to  you,  and  one  of 
apology  for  myself.     My  scenes  are  of  a 
sanguinary  nature — some  of  them  extremely 
so — but,  alas !  far  less  red  than  the  realities, 
from  which  they  were  drawn.     I  know  that 
this  is  but  a  lame  apology  for  having  de- 
picted them ;  but  I  do  not  wish  you  to  enter 
upon  them  unwarned.    I  am  a  coarse,  crude, 
and  careless   writer.     I  lack  those  classic 
sympathies,    which    enable    many    of  my 
brethren  of  the  pen  to  give  such  elegant 
expression   to   their  thoughts.     If  I  mitst 
write,  therefore,  I  am  compelled — in  order 
to  interest — to  lay  more  stress  upon  matter 
than  manner — to  describe  the  rude  realities, 
rather  than  the  refinements  of  thought  and 
life.     Moreover,  my  book  is  a  trapper  book. 
It  is  well  known  that  trappers  swear  like 
troopers — some   of  them,   in   fact,    worse. 
I  have  endeavoured  to  Christianize  my  trap- 
pers as   much  as  lay   in  my  power ;  but, 


X  PREFACE. 

I  fear,  this  emphatic  phraseology  is  too  much 
a  key-stone  of  their  character  to  be  omitted 
without  undoing  them  altogether.  To  use 
a  hackneyed  figure,  it  would  be  *'  Hamlet 
with  Hamlet  left  out." 

/,  however,  see  a  wide  distinction  between 
the  impiety  of  a  trapper's  oath,  and  the 
immorality  of  an  unchaste  episode.  The 
former  can  only  shock  the  moral  nerve  for 
a  moment — the  latter  may  impress  it  for 
ever. 

I  trust,  reader,  that  you  are  emancipated 
from  that  literary  hypocrisy  which  refuses 
to  perceive  this  distinction  ;  and,  trusting 
so,  with  confidence  I  leave  my  character  in 
your  hands. 

Mayne  Reld. 
London,  June,  1851. 


THE    SCALP    HUNTERS. 


THE  SCALP-HUNTERS; 

OB, 

ROMANTIC  ADVENTURES  IN  NORTHERN 
MEXICO. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   WILD   WEST. 

Unrol  the  world's  map,  and  look  upon 
the  great  northern  continent  of  America. 
Away  to  the  wild  west — away  toward  the 
setting  sun — away  beyond  many  a  far  meri- 
dian— let  your  eyes  wander.  Rest  them, 
where  golden  rivers  rise  among  peaks  that 
carry  the  eternal  snow.     Rest  them  there. 

You  are  looking  upon  a  land  whose 
features  are  unfurrowed  by  human  hands— 
stiU  bearing  the  marks  of  the  Almighty 

VOL.  I.  B 


2  THE    SCALP-HUNTEHS. 

mould,  as  upon  the  morning  of  creation.  A 
region,  whose  every  object  wears  the  impress 
of  God's  image.  His  ambient  spirit  lives  in 
the  silent  grandeur  of  its  mountains,  and 
speaks  in  the  roar  of  its  mighty  rivers.  A 
region  redolent  of  romance — rich  in  the 
reality  of  adventure. 

Follow  me,  with  the  eye  of  your  mind, 
through  scenes  of  wild  beauty,  of  savage 
sublimity. 

I  stand  in  an  open  plain.  I  turn  my  face 
to  the  north,  to  the  south,  to  the  east,  and 
to  the  west ;  and,  on  all  sides,  behold  the 
blue  circle  of  the  heavens  girdling  around 
me.  Nor  rock,  nor  tree,  breaks  the  ring  of 
the  horizon.  What  covers  the  broad  ex- 
panse between?  Wood?  water?  grass?  No 
— flowers !  As  far  as  my  eye  can  range,  it 
rests  only  on  flowers — on  beautiful  flowers ! 

I  am  looking  as  on  a  tinted  map — an 
enamelled  picture  brilliant  with  every 
hue  of  the  prism. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  d 

.  Yonder  is  golden  yellow,  where  the 
helianthus  turns  her  dial-like  face  to  the 
sun.  Yonder,  scarlet,  where  the  malva 
erects  its  red  banner.  Here  is  a  par- 
terre of  the  purple  monarda — there  the 
euphorbia  sheds  its  silver  leaf.  Yonder 
the  orange  predominates  in  the  showy 
flowers  of  the  asclepia;  and  beyond,  the 
eye  roams  over  the  pink  blossoms  of  the 
cleome. 

The  breeze  stirs  them.  Millions  of 
corollas  are  waving  their  gaudy  standards. 
The  tall  stalks  of  the  helianthus  bend  and 
rise  in  long  undulations,  like  billows  on  a 
golden  sea! 

They  are  at  rest  again.  The  air  is 
filled  T\dth  odours,  sweet  as  the  perfumes 
of  Araby  or  Ind.  Myriads  of  insects 
flap  their  gay  wings — flowers  of  them- 
selves. The  bee-birds  skirr  around,  glan- 
cing like  stray  sunbeams;  or,  poised  on 
whirring  wings,    drink  from  the  nectared 

B  2 


^  THE    SCAIJP-HUNTERS. 

cups ;  and  the  wild  bee,  with  laden  limbs, 
clings  among  the  honeyed  pistils,  or  leaves 
for  his  far  hive  with  a  song  of  joy. 

Who  planted  these  flowers?  Who  hath 
woven  them  into  these  pictured  parterres? 
Nature.  It  is  her  richest  mantle^ — ^richer 
in  its  hues  than  the  scarfs  of  Cashmere. 

This  is  the  "  weed  prairie."  It  is  mis- 
named.    It  is  the  garden  of  God. 

«  «  *  « 

The  scene  is  changed.  I  am  in  a  plain 
as  before,  with  the  unbroken  horizon  circling 
around  me.  What  do  I  behold  ?  Flowers  ? 
No,  there  is  not  a  flower  in  sight,  but  one 
vast  expanse  of  living  verdure !  From  north 
to  south,  from  east  to  west,  stretches  the 
prairie  meadow,  green  as  all  emerald,  and 
smooth  as  the  surface  of  a  sleeping  lake ! 

The  wind  is  upon  its  bosom,  sweeping  the 
silken  blades.  They  are  in  motion ;  and  the 
verdure  is  dappled  into  lighter  and  darker 
shades,  as  the  shadows  of  summer  clouds 
fleeting  across  the  sun. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  b 

The  eye  wanders  mthout  resistance. 
Perchance,  it  encounters  the  dark  hirsute 
forms  of  the  buffalo,  or  traces  the  tiny  out- 
lines of  the  antelope.  Perchance,  it  follows, 
in  pleased  wonder,  the  far-wild  gallop  of  a 
snow-white  steed. 

This  is  the  "  grass  prairie,"  the  boundless 

pasture  of  the  bison. 

*  *  *  ^ 

The  scene  changes.  The  earth  is  no 
longer  level,  but  treeless  and  verdant  as  ever. 
Its  surface  exhibits  a  succession  of  parallel 
undulations,  here  and  there  swelling  into 
smooth  round  hills.  It  is  covered  with  a  soft 
turf  of  briUiant  greenness.  These  undula- 
tions remind  one  of  the  ocean  after  a  mighty 
storm,  when  the  crisped  foam  has  died  upon 
the  waves,  and  the  big  swell  comes  bowKng 
in.  They  look  as  though  they  had  once 
been  such  waves,  that,  by  an  omnipotent 
mandate,  had  been  transformed  to  earth, 
and  suddenly  stood  still ! 


6  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

This  is  the  "  rolling  prairie." 

♦  *  *  ♦ 

Again  the  scene  changes.  I  am  among 
green  swards  and  bright  flowers;  but  the 
view  is  broken  by  groves  and  clumps  of 
copse- wood.  The  frondage  is  varied,  its 
tints  vivid,  and  its  outlines  soft  and  grace- 
ful. As  I  move  forward,  new  landscapes 
open  up  continuously — views  parklike  and 
picturesque.  "  Gangs"  of  buffalo,  "  herds" 
of  antelope,  and  "  droves  "  of  wild  horses, 
mottle  the  far  vistas.  Turkeys  run  into  the 
coppice ;  and  pheasants  whirr  up  from  the 
path. 

Where  are  the  owners  of  these  lands, 
of  these  flocks  and  fowls  ?  Where  are  the 
houses — ^the  palaces — ^that  should  appertain 
to  these  lordly  parks?  I  look  forward, 
expecting  to  see  the  turrets  of  tall  mansions 
spring  up  over  the  groves.  But  no.  For 
hundreds  of  miles  around  no  chimney  sends 
forth  its  smoke.     Although  with  a  culti- 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  7 

vated  aspect,  this  region  is  only  trodden  by 

the  mocassoned  foot  of  the  hunter,  and  his 

enemy,  the  red  Indian. 

These  are  the  "  mottes  " — the  "  islands  " 

of  the  prairie  sea. 

♦  *  *  * 

I  am  in  the  deep  forest.  It  is  night,  and 
the  log  fire  throws  out  its  vermillion 
glare,  painting  the  objects  that  surround 
our  bivouac.  Huge  trunks  stand  thickly 
around  us  ;  and  massive  limbs,  gray  and 
giant-like,  stretch  out  and  over.  I  notice 
the  bark.  It  is  cracked,  and  clings  in  broad 
scales  crisping  outward.  Long  snake-hke 
parasites  creep  from  tree  to  tree — coiling 
the  trunks,  as  though  they  were  serpents,  and 
would  crush  them !  There  are  no  leaves 
overhead.  They  have  riped,  and  fallen ;  but 
the  white  Spanish  moss,  festooned  along  the 
branches,  hangs  weeping  down  like  the  dra- 
pery of  a  death-bed ! 

Prostrate  trunks — yards  in  diameter,  and 


8  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

half-decayed — lie  along  the  ground.  Their 
ends  exhibit  vast  cavities,  where  the  porcu- 
pine and  opossum  have  taken  shelter  from 
the  cold. 

My  comrades— wrapped  in  their  blankets, 
and  stretched  upon  the  dead  leaves — have 
gone  to  sleep.  They  lie  with  their  feet  to 
the  fire,  and  their  heads  resting  in  the  hollow 
of  their  saddles.  The  horses  standing  around 
a  tree,  and  tied  to  its  lower  branches,  seem 
also  to  sleep.  I  am  awake,  and  listening.  The 
wind  is  high  up,  whistling  among  the  twigs, 
and  causing  the  long  white  streamers  to  oscil- 
late. It  utters  a  wild  and  melancholy  music. 
There  are  few  other  sounds,  for  it  is  winter, 
and  the  tree-frog  and  cicada  are  silent.  I 
hear  the  crackling  knots  in  the  fire — the 
rustling  of  dry  leaves  "  swirled"  up  by  a 
stray  gust — the  "coo-whoo-a"  of  the  white 
owl — the  bark  of  the  racoon — and,  at  inter- 
vals, the  dismal  howling  of  wolves.  These 
are  the  nocturnal  voices  of  the  winter  forest. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  ^ 

They  are  savage  sounds ;  yet  there  is  a  chord 
in  my  bosom  that  vibrates  under  their  in- 
fluence; and  my  spirit  is  tinged  with  ro- 
mance, as  I  lie  and  listen. 

*  *  ^  « 

The  forest  in  autumn — still  bearing  its 
fuU  frondage.  The  leaves  resemble  flowers, 
so  bright  are  their  hues.  They  are  red,  and 
yellow,  and  golden,  and  brown.  The  woods 
are  warm  and  glorious  now ;  and  the  birds 
flutter  among  the  laden  branches.  The  eye 
wanders  delighted  down  long  vistas,  and 
over  sunlit  glades.  It  is  caught  by  the 
flashing  of  gaudy  plumage,  the  golden -green 
of  the  paroquet,  the  blue  of  the  jay,  and  the 
orange  wing  of  the  oriole.  The  red  bird 
flutters  lower  down  in  the  coppice  of  green 
pa^vpaws,  or  amidst  the  amber  leaflets  of 
the  beechen  thicket.  Hundreds  of  tiny 
wings  flit  through  the  openings,  twinkling 
in  the  sun  like  the  glancing  of  gems. 

The  air  is  filled  with  music — sweet  sounds 

B  3 


10  THE    SCALP-HUNTEHS. 

of  love.  The  bark  of  the  squirrel,  the  coo- 
ing of  mated  doves,  the  "rat-ta-ta"  of 
the  pecker,  and  the  constant  and  measured 
chirrup  of  the  cicada,  are  all  ringing  toge- 
ther. High  up,  on  a  topmost  twig,  the  mock 
bird  pours  forth  his  mimic  note,  as  though 
he  would   shame  all   other  songsters   into 

silence. 

*  *  *  * 

I  am  in  a  country  of  brown  barren  earth, 
and  broken  outlines.  There  are  rocks,  and 
clefts,  and  patches  of  sterile  soil.  Strange 
vegetable  forms  grow  in  the  clefts,  and  hang 
over  the  rocks.  Others  are  spheroidal  in 
shape,  resting  upon  the  surface  of  the 
parched  earth.  Others  rise  vertically  to  a 
great  height,  like  carved  and  fluted  columns. 
Some  throw  out  branches,  crooked  shaggy 
branches,  with  hirsute  oval  leaves.  Yet 
there  is  a  homogeneousness  about  all 
these  vegetable  forms — in  their  colour,  in 
their  fruit,   and   flowers  —  that  proclaims 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  11 

them  of  one  family.  They  are  cacti.  It 
is  a  forest  of  the  Mexican  nopaL  Another 
singular  plant  is  here.  It  throws  out  long 
thorny  leaves  that  curve  downward.  It  is 
the  agave,  the  far-famed  mezcal-plant  of 
Mexico.  Here  and  there,  mingling  with 
the  cacti,  are  trees  of  acacia  and  mezquite — 
the  denizens  of  the  desert  land.  No  bright 
object  relieves  the  eye  ;  no  bird  pours  its 
melody  into  the  ear.  The  lonely  owl  flaps 
away  into  the  impassable  thicket — the  rattle- 
snake glides  under  its  scanty  shade — and 
the  coyote  skulks  through  its  silent  glades. 
*  #  #  * 

I  have  climbed  mountain  after  mountain, 
and  still  I  behold  peaks  soaring  far  above, 
crowned  with  the  snow  that  never  melts. 
I  stand  upon  beetling  cliffs,  and  look  into 
chasms  that  yawn  beneath,  sleeping  in 
the  silence  of  desolation.  Great  fragments 
have  fallen  into  them,  and  He  piled  upon 
one  another.    Others  hang  threatening  over, 


12  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

as  if  waiting  for  some  concussion  of  the  at- 
mosphere to  hurl  them  from  their  balance. 
Dark  precipices  frown  me  into  fear  ;  and 
my  head  reels  with  a  dizzy  faintness.  I 
hold  to  the  pine  tree  shaft,  or  the  angle  of 
the  firmer  rock. 

Above,  and  below,  and  around  me,  are 
mountains  piled  on  mountains  in  chaotic 
confusion.  Some  are  bald  and  bleak :  others 
exhibit  traces  of  vegetation,  in  the  dark 
needles  of  the  pine  and  cedar,  whose  stunted 
forms  half-grow,  half-hang  from  the  cliffs. 
Here,  a  cone-shaped  peak  soars  up  till  it  is 
lost  in  snow  and  clouds.  There,  a  ridge 
elevates  its  sharp  outline  against  the  sky ; 
while  along  its  sides  lie  huge  boulders  of 
granite,  as  though  they  had  been  hurled 
from  the  hands  of  Titan  giants ! 

A  fearful  monster — the  grizzly  bear — drags 
his  body  along  the  high  ridges  ;  the  carca- 
jou squats  upon  the  projecting  rock,  wait- 
ing the  elk  that  must  pass  to  the  water 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  13 

below  ;  and  the  bighorn  bounds  from  crag 
to  crag  in  search  of  his  shy  mate.  Along 
the  pine  branch  the  bald  buzzard  wl^pts  his 
filthy  beak  ;  and  the  war-eagle,  soaring  over 
all,  cuts  sharply  against  the  blue  field  of 
the  heavens ! 

These  are  the  Rocky  Mountains  —  the 
American  Andes — the  colossal  vertebrae  of 

the  continent! 

*  *  ^  *  * 

Such  are  the  aspects  of  the  wild  west — 
such  is  the  scenery  of  our  drama. 

Let  us  raise  the  curtain,  and  bring  on 
the  characters. 


14  THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   PRAIRIE   MERCHANTS. 

"  New  Orleans j 
"April  3rd,  18—. 
"Dear  St.  Vrain, 

"  Our  young  friend,  M.  Henry  Hal- 
ler,   goes  to  St.   Louis  in  '  search  of  the 
picturesque.'      See  that  he  be  put  through 
a  '  regular  course  of  sprouts.' 
"  Yours, 

"Luis  Walton. 
"  Charles  St.  Vrain,  Esq., 

"  Planter's  Hotel, 

"  St.  Louis." 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  15 

With  this  laconic  epistle  in  my  waistcoat 
pocket,  I  debarked  at  St.  Louis  on  the 
10th  of  April,  and  drove  to  the  "  Planter's." 

After  getting  my  baggage  stowed,  and 
my  horse  (a  favourite  I  had  brought  with 
me)  stabled,  I  put  on  a  clean  shirt ;  and, 
descending  to  the  "  office,"  inquired  for  M. 
St.  Vrain. 

He  was  not  there.  He  had  gone  up  the 
Missouri  river,  several  days  before. 

This  was  a  disappointment,  as  I  had 
brought  no  other  introduction  to  St.  Louis. 
But  I  endeavoured  to  await  with  patience 
the  return  of  M.  St.  Vrain.  He  was  ex- 
pected back  in  less  than  a  week. 

Day  after  day,  I  mounted  my  horse.  I 
rode  up  to  the  "  Mounds,"  and  out  upon 
the  prairies.  I  lounged  about  the  hotel ; 
and  smoked  my  cigar  in  its  fine  piazza.  I 
drank  '^  sherry  cobblers "  in  the  saloon  ; 
and  read  the  journals  in  the  "reading 
room." 


16  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

With  these  and  such  like  occupations,  I 
killed  time  for  three  whole  days. 

There  was  a  party  of  gentlemen  stopping 
at  the  hotel,  who  seemed  to  know  each 
other  well.  I  might  call  them  a  clique  ; 
but  that  is  not  a  good  word,  and  does  not 
express  what  I  mean.  They  appeared  ra- 
ther, a  band  of  friendly,  jovial  fellows.  They 
strolled  together  through  the  streets,  and 
sat  side  by  side  at  the  table  d'hote,  where 
they  usually  remained  long  after  the  regular 
diners  had  retired.  I  noticed  that  they 
drank  the  most  expensive  wines,  and  smoked 
the  finest  cigars  the  house  afforded. 

My  attention  was  attracted  to  these  men. 
I  was  struck  with  their  peculiar  bearing — 
their  erect,  Indian-like  carriage  in  the 
streets,  combined  with  a  boyish  gaiety,  so 
characteristic  of  the  western  American. 

They  dressed  nearly  alike  ;  in  fine  black 
cloth,  white  linen,  satin  vests,  and  diamond 
pins.      They   wore  the   whisker  full,    but 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  17 

smoothly  trimmed  ;  and  several  of  them 
sported  moustaches.  Their  hair  fell  curling 
over  their  shoulders  ;  and  most  of  them 
wore  their  collars  turned  down,  displaying 
healthy-looking,  sun- tanned  throats.  I  was 
struck  with  a  vraisemhlance  in  their  phy- 
siognomy. Their  faces  did  not  resemble 
each  other  ;  but  there  was  an  unmistake- 
able  similarity  in  the  expression  of  the  eye 
— ^no  doubt,  the  mark  that  had  been  made 
by  like  occupations  and  experience. 

Were  they  sportsmen  ?  No.  The  sports- 
man's hands  are  whiter.  There  is  more 
jewellery  on  his  fingers  ;  his  waistcoat  is  of 
a  gayer  pattern;  and  altogether  his  dress 
will  be  more  gaudy  and  super-elegant. 
Moreover,  the  sportsman  lacks  that  air  of 
free-and-easy  confidence.  He  dares  not  as- 
sume it.  He  may  live  in  the  hotel  ;  but  he 
must  be  quiet  and  unobtrusive.  The 
sportsman  is  a  bird  of  prey  ;  hence,  like  all 
birds  of  prey,  his  habits  are  silent  and  soli- 
tary.    They  are  not  of  his  profession. 


18  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  Who  are  these  gentlemen  ? "  I  in- 
quired, from  a  person  who  sat  by  me,  indi- 
cating to  him  the  men  of  whom  I  have 
spoken. 

"  The  prairie  men." 

"  The  prairie  men  !  " 

"  Yes.     The  Santa  Fe  traders." 

"  Traders  !  "  I  echoed,  in  some  surprise, 
not  being  able  to  connect  such  elegantes 
with  any  ideas  of  trade  or  the  prairies. 

"  Yes,"  continued  my  informant.  "  That 
large,  fine-looking  man,  in  the  middle,  is 
Bent — Bill  Bent,  as  he  is  called.  The 
gentleman  on  his  right  is  young  Sublette  ; 
the  other,  standing  on  his  left,  is  one  of  the 
Choteaus  ;  and  that  is  the  sober  Jerry 
Folger." 

"These,  then,  are  the  celebrated  prairie 
merchants  ?  " 

"  Precisely  so." 

I  sat,  eyeing  them  with  increased  curiosity. 
I  observed  that  they  were  looking  at  me; 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  19 

and  that  I  was  the  subject  of  their  conver- 
sation. 

Presently,  one  of  them — a  dashing-like 
young  fellow — parted  from  the  group,  and 
walked  up  to  me. 

"  Were  you  inquiring  for  Mr.  St.  Yrain  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"I  was." 

''Charles?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  name." 

"lam " 


I  pulled  out  my  note  of  introduction,  and 
handed  it  to  the  gentleman  ;  who  glanced 
over  its  contents. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  he,  grasping  me 
cordially  ;  ''  devilish  sorry  I  have  not  been 
here.  I  came  down  the  river  this  morning. 
How  stupid  of  Walton  not  to  superscribe 
to  Bill  Bent.    How  long  have  you  been  up  ?" 

"  Three  days.     I  arrived  on  the  10th." 

"By  the  Lord!  you  are  lost.  Come,  let 
me  make  you  acquainted.  Here,  Bent! 
BiU!  Jerry! " 


20  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

And,  the  next  moment,  1  had  shaken 
hands  with  one  and  all  of  the  traders ;  of 
which  fraternity,  I  found,  that  my  new 
friend,  St.  Yrain,  was  a  member. 

"First  gong  that?"  asked  one,  as  the 
loud  scream  of  a  gong  came  through  the 
gallery. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bent,  consulting  his  watch. 
"  Just  time  to  '  licker.'     Come  along !" 

Bent  moved  toward  the  saloon ;  and  we 
all  followed,  nemine  dissentieiite. 

The  spring  season  was  setting  in ;  and 
the  young  mint  had  sprouted — a  botanical 
fact  with  which  my  new  acquaintances  ap- 
peared to  be  familiar — as  one  and  all  of 
them  ordered  a  "  mint  julep."  This  bever- 
age, in  the  mixing  and  drinking,  occupied 
our  time  until  the  second  scream  of  the 
gong  summoned  us  to  dinner. 

"  Sit  with  us,  Mr.  Haller,"  said  Bent  ; 
"  I  am  sorry  v/e  didn't  know  you  sooner — 
you  have  been  lonely." 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  21 

And  so  saying,  he  led  the  way  into  the 
dining-room,  followed  by  his  companions 
and  myself. 

I  need  not  describe  a  dinner  at  the 
Planter's  St.  Louis,  mth  its  venison  steaks, 
its  buffalo  tongues,  its  "prairie  chickens," 
and  its  delicious  frog  "fixings"  from  the 
Illinois  "  bottom."  No.  I  would  not  de- 
scribe the  dinner,  and  what  followed,  I  am 
afraid  I  could  not. 

We  sat  until  we  had  the  table  to  our- 
selves. Then  the  cloth  was  removed ;  and 
we  commenced  smoking  regalias^  and  drink- 
ing madeira  at  twelve  dollars  a  bottle  !  This 
was  ordered  in  by  some  one,  not  in  single 
bottles,  but  by  the  half-dozen !  I  remember 
thus  far  well  enough ;  and  that,  whenever 
I  took  up  a  wine-card  or  a  pencil,  these 
articles  were  snatched  out  of  my  fingers. 

I  remember  listening  to  stories  of  wild 
adventures  among  the  Pawnees,  and  the 
Comanches,  and  the  Blackfeet,  until  I  was 


22  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

filled  with  interest,  and  became  enthusiastic 
about  prairie-life.  Then  some  one  asked 
me,  would  I  not  like  to  join  them  in  "a 
trip  ?"  Upon  this,  I  made  a  speech ;  and 
proposed  to  accompany  my  new  acquaint- 
ances on  their  next  expedition ;  and  then 
St.  Yrain  said  I  was  just  the  man  for  their 
life ;  and  this  pleased  me  highly.  Then 
some  one  sang  a  Spanish  song,  with  a 
guitar,  I  think;  and  some  one  else  danced 
an  Indian  war-dance ;  and  then  we  all  rose  to 
our  feet,  and  chorused  the  "  Star-spangled 
.Banner;"  and  I  remember  nothing  else 
after  this,  until  next  morning,  when  I  re- 
member well  that  I  awoke  with  a  splitting 
headache. 

I  had  hardly  time  to  reflect  on  my  pre- 
vious night's  foUy,  when  the  door  opened ; 
and  St.  Yrain,  with  half  a  dozen  of  my  table 
companions,  rushed  into  the  room.  They 
were  followed  by  a   waiter,    who   carried 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  23 

several  large  glasses  topped  witli  ice,  and 
filled  with  a  pale  amber-coloured  liquid. 

"A  sherry  cobbler,  Mr.  Haller,"  cried 
one ;  "  best  thing  in  the  world  for  you — 
drain  it  my  boy.  It'll  cool  you  in  a 
squirrel's  jump." 

I  drank  off  the  refreshing  beverage,  as 
desired. 

*'  Now,  my  dear  friend,"  said  St.  Vrain, 
"  you  feel  a  hundred  per  cent,  better?  But 
tell  me !  were  you  in  earnest,  when  you 
spoke  of  going  with  us  across  the  plains? 
We  start  in  a  week;  I  shall  be  sorry  to 
part  with  you  so  soon." 

But  I  was  in  earnest.  I  am  going  with 
you,  if  you  will  only  show  me  how  I  am 
to  set  about  it." 

"  Nothing  easier — buy  yourself  a  horse. 

"  I  have  got  one." 

"Then  a  few  coarse  articles  of  dress,  a 
Ti^<^^  a  pair  of  pistols,  a — " 

"Stop,    stop — I  have   all   these  things. 


24  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

That  is  not  what  I  would  be  at,  but  this. 
You,  gentlemen,  carry  goods  to  Santa  Fe. 
You  double,  or  treble,  your  money  on  them. 
Now  I  have  10,000  dollars  in  a  bank  here. 
What  should  hinder  me  to  combine  profit 
with  pleasure,  and  invest  it  as  you?" 

"  Nothing — ^nothing !  A  good  idea,"  an- 
swered several. 

"  Well  then,  if  any  of  you  will  have  the 
goocjness  to  go  with  me ;  and  show  me  what 
sort  of  merchandise  I  am  to  lay  in  for  the 
Santa  Fe  market,  I  wiU  pay  for  his  wine 
biU  at  dinner;  and  that^s  no  small  com- 
mission, I  think." 

The  prairie  men  laughed  loudly,  declaring 
they  would  aU  go  a-shopping  with  me ;  and, 
after  breakfast,  we  started  in  a  body,  arm- 
in-arm. 

Before  dinner  I  had  invested  nearly  all 
my  disposable  funds  in  printed  calicoes,  long 
knives,  and  looking  glasses;  leaving  just 
money   enough  to  purchase  mule-wagons 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  25 

and   hire  teamsters  at  Independence — our 
point  of  departure  for  the  "  plains." 

A  few  days  after,  with  my  new  compan- 
ions, I  was  steaming  it  up  the  Missouri, 
on  our  way  to  the  trackless  prairies  of  the 
''  Far  West." 


VOL.    I. 


26  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    "prairie   fever." 

After  a  week  spent  in  Independence, 
buying  mules  and  wagons,  we  took  the 
route  over  the  plains.  There  were  a  hun- 
dred wagons  in  the  *'  caravan,"  and  nearly 
twice  that  number  of  teamsters  and  attend- 
ants. Two  of  the  capacious  vehicles  con- 
tained aU  my  "plunder;"  and  to  manage 
them,  I  had  hired  a  couple  of  lathy  long- 
haired Missourians.  I  had  also  engaged  a 
Canadian  voyageur,  named  Gode,  as  a  sort 
of  attendant  or  compagnon. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  27 

Where  are  tlie  glossy  elegantes  of  the 
planters'  hotel?  One  would  suppose  they 
had  been  left  behind ;  as  here  are  none  but 
men  in  hunting  shirts  and  slouch  hats. 
Yes — but  under  these  hats  we  recognise 
their  faces,  and  in  these  rude  shirts  we  have 
the  same  jo\ial  fellows  as  ever.  The  silky 
black  and  the  diamonds  have  disappeared ; 
for  now  the  traders  flourish  under  the 
prairie  costume.  I  will  endeavour  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  appearance  of  my  companions 
by  describing  my  own ;  for  I  am  '^  tricked 
out"  very  much  like  themselves 

I  wear  a  himting  shirt  of  dressed  deer 
skin.  It  is  a  garment  more  after  the  style 
of  an  ancient  tunic,  than  anything  I  can 
think  of  It  is  of  a  light  yellow  colour, 
beautifully  stitched  and  embroidered;  and 
the  cape — for  it  has  a  short  cape — is  fringed 
by  tags  cut  out  of  the  leather  itself  The 
skirt  is  also  bordered  by  a  similar  fringe, 
and  hangs  full  and  low.  A  pair  of  "  savers" 

c  2 


28  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

of  scarlet  cloth  cover  my  limbs  to  the  thigh ; 
and  under  these  are  strong  jeans  pantaloons, 
heavy  boots,  and  big  brass  spurs.  A 
coloured  cotton  shirt,  a  blue  neck-tie,  and  a 
broad-brimmed  Guayaquil  hat,  complete  the 
articles  of  my  every  day  dress.  Behind  me, 
on  the  cantle  of  my  saddle,  may  be  observed 
a  bright  red  object  folded  into  a  cylindrical 
form.  That  is  my  "Mackinaw,"  a  great 
favourite — for  it  makes  my  bed  by  night,  and 
my  great  coat  on  other  occasions.  There  is  a 
small  slit  in  the  middle  of  it,  through  which 
I  thrust  my  head  in  cold  or  rainy  weather; 
and  I  am  thus  covered  to  the  ankles. 

As  I  have  said,  my  compagnons  du  voyage 
are  similarly  attired.  There  may  be  a  dif- 
ference of  colour  in  the  blanket  or  the 
leggings,  or  the  shirt  may  be  of  other 
materials ;  but  that  I  have  described  may  be 
taken  as  a  "  character  dress." 

We  are  all  somewhat  similarly  armed  and 
equipped.     For  my  part,  I  may  say  that  I 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  29 

am  "  armed  to  the  teeth."  In  my  holsters  I 
carry  a  pair  of  Colt's  large- sized  revolvers, 
six  shots  each.  In  my  belt  is  another  pair 
of  the  small  size,  with  five  shots  each.  In 
addition,  I  have  a  light  rifle,  making  in  all 
twenty-three  shots,  which  I  have  learnt  to 
deliver  in  as  many  seconds  of  time.  Failing 
with  all  these,  I  carry  in  my  belt  a  long 
shining  blade  known  as  a  '' bow^ie  knife." 
This  last  is  my  hunting  knife,  my  dining 
knife,  and,  in  short,  my  knife  of  "  all  work." 
For  accoutrements  I  have  a  pouch  and  flask, 
both  sluno;  under  the  rio'ht  arm.  I  have 
also  a  large  gourd  canteen,  and  a  haver- 
sack for  my  rations.  So  have  all  my  com- 
panions. 

But  we  are  differently  mounted.  Some 
ride  saddle  mules  ;  others  stride  a  mustang ; 
while  a  few  have  brought  their  favourite 
American  horses.  I  am  of  this  number. 
I  ride  a  dark  brown  stallion  with  blacklegs, 
and  muzzle  like  the  withered  fern.     He  is  a 


80  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

half  Arab,  and  of  perfect  proportions.  He 
is  called  "Moro,"  a  Spanish  name,  given  him 
by  the  Louisiana  planter  from  whom  I 
bought  him,  but  why  I  do  not  know.  I 
have  retained  the  name,  and  he  answers  to 
it  readily.  He  is  strong,  fleet,  and  beauti- 
ful. Many  of  my  friends  fancy  him  on  the 
route,  and  offer  large  prices  for  him;  but 
these  do  not  tempt  me,  for  my  Moro  serves 
me  well.  Every  day  I  grow  more  and  more 
attached  to  him.  My  dog.  Alp,  a  San  Ber- 
nard that  I  bought  from  a  Swiss  emigre  in 
St.  Louis,  hardly  comes  in  for  a  tithe  of  my 
affections. 

I  find,  in  referring  to  my  note  book,  that 
for  weeks  we  travelled  over  the  prairies, 
without  any  incident  of  unusual  interest. 
To  me  the  scenery  was  interest  enough  ;  and 
I  do  not  remember  a  more  striking  picture 
than  to  see  the  long  caravan  of  wagons — 
the  "prairie  ships" — deployed  over  the  plain, 
or  crawling  slowly  up  some  gentle  slope — 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  31 

their  white  tilts  contrasting  beautifully  with 
the  deep  green  of  the  earth.  At  night  too, 
the  camp,  with  its  corralled  wagons,  and 
horses  picketed  around,  was  equally  a  pic- 
ture. The  scenery  was  altogether  new  to 
me,  and  imbued  me  with  impressions  of  a 
peculiar  character.  The  streams  were 
fringed  with  tall  groves  of  cottonwood  trees, 
whose  column -like  stems  supported  a  thick 
frondage  of  silvery  leaves.  These  groves, 
meeting  at  different  points,  walled  in  the  view, 
so  dividing  the  prairies  from  one  another, 
that  we  seemed  to  travel  through  vast  fields 
fenced  by  colossal  hedges ! 

We  crossed  many  rivers,  fording  some, 
and  floating  our  wagons  over  others  that 
were  deeper  and  wider.  Occasionally  we 
saw  deer,  and  antelope ;  and  our  hunters  shot 
a  few  of  these  ;  but  we  had  not  yet  reached 
the  range  of  the  buffalo.  Once  we  stopped 
a  day  to  recruit  in  a  wooded  ^'bottom," 
where  the  grass  was  plenty,  and  the  water 


32  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

pure.  Now  and  then  too,  we  were  halted  to 
mend  a  broken  tongue  or  an  axle,  or  help  a 
"  stalled"  wagon  from  its  miry  bed. 

I  had  very  little  trouble  with  my  particu- 
lar division  of  the  caravan.  My  Missourians 
turned  out  to  be  a  pair  of  staunch  hands, 
who  could  assist  one  another,  without  mak- 
ing a  desperate  aifair  of  every  slight  accident. 

The  grass  had  sprung  up,  and  our  mules 
and  oxen,  instead  of  thinning  down,  every 
day  grew  fatter  upon  it.  Moro,  therefore, 
came  in  for  a  better  share  of  the  maize  that 
I  had  brought  in  my  wagons,  and  which 
kept  my  favourite  in  fine  travelling  condi- 
tion. 

As  we  approached  the  Arkansas,  we  saw 
mounted  Indians  disappearing  over  the 
swells.  They  were  Pawnees ;  and  for  several 
days  clouds  of  these  dusky  warriors  hung 
upon  the  skirts  of  the  caravan.  But  they 
knew  our  strength,  and  kept  at  a  wary  dis- 
tance from  our  long  rifles. 


THE    SCALP-HUXTERS.  33 

To  me  every  day  brought  something  new, 
either  in  the  incidents  of  the  "  voyage,"  or 
the  features  of  the    landscape. 

Gode — who  had  been  by  turns  a  voyageur\  a 
hunter,  a  trapper,  and  a  coureur  du  hois —  in  our 
private  dialogues,  had  given  me  an  insight  into 
many  an  item  of  prairie -craft,  thus  enabling 
me  to  cut  quite  a  respectable  figure  among 
my  new  comrades.  St.  A^rain  too — whose 
frank,  generous  manner  had  already  won 
my  confidence — spared  no  pains  to  make  the 
trip  agreeable  to  me.  What  with  the  wild 
gallops  by  day,  and  the  wilder  tales  by  the  night 
watch-fires,  I  became  intoxicated  with  the 
romance  of  my  new  life.  /  had  caught  the 
'''  prairie  fever  !^^ 

So  my  companions  told  me,  laughing! 
I  did  not  understand  them  then.  I  knew 
what  they  meant  afterwards.  The  prairie 
fever !  Yes.  I  was  just  then  in  process  of 
being  innoculated  by  that  strange  disease.  It 
grew  upon  me  apace.     The  dreams  of  home 

c3 


34  THE    SCALP-HUKTEBS. 

began  to  die  within  me ;  and,  with  these, 
the  illusory  ideas  of  many  a  young  and 
foolish  ambition.  Died  away,  too — dead  out 
of  my  heart — the  allurements  of  the  great 
city — the  memory  of  soft  eyes  and  silken 
tresses — the  impress  of  amorous  emotions — 
foes  to  human  happiness — all  died  away,  as 
if  they  had  never  been,  or  I  had  never  felt 
them! 

My  strength  increased,  both  physically 
and  intellectually.  I  experienced  a  buoy- 
ancy of  spirits  and  a  vigour  of  body,  I 
had  never  known  before.  I  felt  a  pleasure 
in  action.  My  blood  seemed  to  rush  warmer 
and  swifter  through  my  veins ;  and  I  fancied 
that  my  eyes  reached  to  a  more  distant  vision. 
I  could  look  boldly  upon  the  sun,  without 
quivering  in  my  glance. 

Had  I  imbibed  a  portion  of  the  divine 
essence,  that  lives  and  moves,  and  has  its 
being  in  those  vast  solitudes  ? 

Who  can  answer  this  ? 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  85 

The  prairie  fever  !  I  feel  it  now !  Whilst 
I  am  penning  these  memories,  my  fingers 
twitch  to  grasp  the  reins — my  knees  quiver 
to  press  the  sides  of  my  noble  horse,  and 
wildly  wander  over  the  verdant  billows  of 
the  prairie  sea ! 


36  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   RIDE   UPON   A   BUFFALO  BULL. 

We  had  been  out  about  two  weeks,  when  we 
struck  the  Arkansas  "  Bend,"  about  six  miles 
below  the  "  Plum  Buttes."  Here  our  wag- 
ons corralled  and    camped. 

So  far  we  had  seen  but  little  of  the  buffalo  : 
only  a  stray  bull ;  or  at  most  two  or  three 
together;  and  these  shy.  It  was  now  the 
"  running  season,"  but  none  of  the  great 
droves — love  maddened — had  crossed  us. 

^'  Yonder !  "  cried  St.  Yrain,  ''  fresh 
hump  for  supper  !  " 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  37 

We  looked  north-west,  as  indicated  by  our 
friend.  Along  the  escarpment  of  a  low  table, 
five  dark  objects  broke  the  line  of  thehorizon. 
A  glance  was  enough — they  were  buffaloes. 
As  St.  Yrain  spoke,  we  were  about  slip- 
ping off  our  saddles.  Back  went  the  girth 
buckles  with  a  "  sneck" — down  came  the 
stirrups, — up  went  we,  and  off  in  the 
"  twinkling  of  a  goat's  eye." 
^  Half  a  score  or  so  started — some,  like 
myself,  for  the  sport — while  others — old 
hunters — had  the  "  meat"  in  their  eye. 

We  had  made  but  a  short  day's  march  ; 
our  horses  were  still  fresh  ;  and,  in  three 
times  as  many  minutes,  the  three  miles  that 
lay  between  us  and  the  game  were  reduced 
to  one  .  Here  however  we  were  "  winded." 
Some  of  the  party,  like  myself  green  upon 
the  prairies,  disregarding  advice,  had  ridden 
straight  a-head  ;  and  the  bulls  snuffed 
us  on  the  wind.  AYhen  within  a  mile,  one 
of  them  threw  up  his  shaggy  front;  snorted, 


38  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

struck  the  ground  with  his  hoof,  rolled 
over,  rose  up  again,  and  dashed  off  at  full 
speed,  followed  by  his  four  companions. 

It  remained  to  us  now  either  to  abandon 
the  chase,  or  put  our  horses  to  their  mettle, 
and  "  catch  up."  The  latter  course  was 
adopted ;  and  we  galloped  forward.  All  at 
once  we  found  ourselves  riding  up  to,  what 
appeared  to  be,  a  clay  wall  six  feet  high. 
It  was  a  stair  between  two  tables  ;  and  ran 
right  and  left,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
without  the  semblance  of  a  gap ! 

This  was  an  obstacle  that  caused  us  to 
rein  up,  and  reflect.  Some  wheeled  their 
horses,  and  commenced  riding  back ;  while 
half-a-dozen  of  us,  better  mounted — among 
whom  were  St.  Yrain,  and  my  voyageur 
Gode — not  wishing  to  give  up  the  chase  so 
easily,  put  to  the  spur,  and  cleared  the 
scarp. 

From  this  point  it  cost  us  a  ^ve  miles' 
gallop,  and  our  horses  a  white   sweat,  to 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  89 

come  up  with  the  hindmost — a  young  cow — 
who  fell,  bored  by  a  bullet  from  every  rifle 
in  the  party. 

As  the  others  had  gained  some  distance 
a-head,  and  we  had  meat  enough  for 
all,  we  reined  up;  and  dismounting,  set 
about  "  removing  the  hair."  This  opera- 
tion was  a  short  one  under  the  skilful 
knives  of  the  hunters.  We  had  now  leisure 
to  look  back,  and  calculate  the  distance  we 
had  ridden  from  camp. 

"  Eight  miles,  every  inch  !  '*  cried  one. 

"  We're  close  to  the  trail,'*  said  St.  Yrain, 
pointing  to  some  old  wagon  tracks  that 
marked  the  route  of  the  Santa  Fe  traders. 

"WeU?" 

"  If  we  ride  into  camp,  we  shall  have  to 
ride  back  in  the  morning.  It  will  be  six- 
teen extra  miles  for  our  cattle." 

"  True." 

*'  Let  us  stay  here  then.  Here's  water  and 
grass.    There's  buffalo  meat ;   and  yonder's 


40  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

a  wagon  load  of  "  chips."      We  have  our. 
blankets — what  more  do  we  want?  " 

"  I  say  camp  where  we  are  ?" 

''And  I." 

"And  I." 

In  a  minute,  the  girth  buckles  flew 
open,  our  saddles  were  lifted  off,  and  our 
panting  horses  were  cropping  the  curly 
bunches  of  the  prairie  grass,  within  the 
circles  of  their  cahiestoes, 

A  crystal  rivulet — the  "  arroyo  "  of  the 
Spaniards — stole  away  southward  to  the 
Arkansas.  On  the  bank  of  this  rivulet,  and 
under  one  of  its  bluffs,  we  chose  a  spot  for 
our  bivouack.  The  hois  de  vache  ^^was  col- 
lected— a  fire  was  kindled — and  "hump 
steaks"  spitted  on  sticks,  were  soon  sput- 
tering in  the  blaze.  Luckily  St.  Vrain  and 
I  hnd  our  flasks  along  ;  and  as  each  of  them 
contained  a  pint  of  pure  Cognac,  we  man- 
aged to  make  a  tolerable  supper.  The  old 
hunters  had  their  pipes  and  tobacco ;  my 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  41 

friend  and  I  our  cigars  ;  and  we  sat  round 
the  ashes  to  a  late  hour,  smoking,  and  lis- 
tening to  wild  tales  of  mountain  adventure. 

At  length  the  watch  was  told  off — the 
lariats  were  shortened — the  picket-pins 
driven  home — and  my  comrades,  rolling 
themselves  up  in  their  blankets,  rested  their 
heads  in  the  hollow  of  their  saddles,  and 
went  to  sleep. 

There  was  a  man  named  Hibbets  in  our 
party,  who  from  his  habits  of  somnolency, 
had  earned  the  sobriquet  of  Sleepyhead." 
For  this  reason,  the  first  watch  had  been 
assigned  to  him,  being  the  least  dangerous 
— as  Indians  seldom  make  their  attacks 
until  the  hour  of  soundest  sleep,  that  before 
daybreak. 

Hibbets  had  climbed  to  his  post — the  top 
of  the  bluff — where  he  could  command  a 
view  of  the  surrounding  prairie. 

Before  night  had  set  in,  I  had  noticed  a 
very  beautiful    spot   on    the   bank  of  the 


42  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

arroyo,  about  two  hundred  yards  from 
where  my  comrades  lay.  A  sudden  fancy 
came  into  my  head  to  sleep  there ;  and  taking 
up  my  rifle,  robe,  and  blanket — at  the  same 
time  calling  to  "  Sleepyhead  "  to  wake  me 
in  case  of  alarm — I  proceeded  thither. 

The  ground,  shelving  gradually  down  to 
the  arroyo,  was  covered  with  soft  buffalo 
grass — thick  and  dry — as  good  a  bed  as  was 
ever  pressed  by  sleepy  mortal.  On  this  I 
spread  my  robe  ;  and,  folding  my  blanket, 
around  me,  lay  down — cigar  in  mouth — . 
to  smoke  myself  asleep. 

It  was  a  lovely  moonlight — so  clear  that 
I  could  easily  distinguish  the  colours  of  the 
prairie  flowers — the  silver  euphorbias — the 
golden  sunflowers,  and  the  scarlet  malvas — 
that  fringed  the  banks  of  the  arroyo  at  my 
feet.  There  was  an  enchanting  stillness  in  the 
air,  broken  only  by  an  occasional  whine  from 
the  prairie  wolf,  the  distant  snoring  of  my 
companions,  and  the  ''crop-crop"  of  our 
horses,  shortening  the  crisp  grass. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  43 

I  lay  a  good  while  awake,  until  my  cigar 
burnt  up  to  my  lips — we  smoke  them  close 
on  the  prairies — then,  spitting  out  the 
stump,  I  turned  over  on  my  side,  and  was 
soon  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

I  could  not  have  been  asleep  many  minutes, 
when  I  felt  sensible  of  a  strange  noise,  like 
distant  thunder,  or  the  roaring  of  a  water- 
fall. The  ground  seemed  to  tremble  beneath 
me ! 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  dash  of  a  thun- 
der-shower," thought  I,  still  half  dreaming, 
half  sensible  to  impressions  from  without ; 
and  I  drew  the  folds  of  my  blanket  closer 
about  me,  and  again  slept. 

I  was  awakened  by  a  noise  like  thunder 
indeed — like  the  trampling  of  a  thousand 
hoofs,  and  the  lowing  of  a  thousand  oxen ! 
The  earth  echoed,  and  trembled.  I  could 
hear  the  shouts  of  my  comrades — the  voices 
of  St.  Vrain  and  Gode,  the  latter  calling 
out — 


44  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

'''' Sacr-r-re  !  Monsieur;  garde  les  huffles  T 

I  saw  that  they  had  drawn  the  horses; 
and  were  hurrying  them  under  the  bluff. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet,  flinging  aside  my 
blanket.  A  fearful  spectacle  was  before  me . 
Away  to  the  west,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  the  prairie  seemed  in  motion.  Black 
waves  rolled  over  its  undulating  outlines,  as 
though  some  burning  mountain  was  pouring 
down  its  lava  upon  the  plains.  A  thousand 
bright  spots  flashed  and  flitted  along  the 
moving  surface  like  jets  of  fire.  The  ground 
shook — men  shouted — horses  reared  upon 
their  ropes,  neighing  wildly.  My  dog  barked 
and  howled,  running  around  me ! 

For  a  moment  I  thought  I  was  dreaming  ; 
but  no  the  scene  was  too  real  to  be  mistaken 
for  a  vision.  I  saw  the  border  of  the  black 
wave  within  ten  paces  of  me,  and  still 
approaching!  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did 
I  recognise  the  shaggy  crests  and  glaring 
eyeballs  of  the  buffalo ! 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  45 

"  God  of  heaven  !  I  am  in  their  track. 
I  will  be  trampled  to  death !" 

It  was  too  late  to  attempt  an  escape  by 
running.  I  seized  my  rifle,  and  fired  at.  the 
foremost  of  the  band.  The  effect  of  ray  shot 
was  not  perceptible.  The  water  of  the 
arroyo  was  dashed  in  my  face.  A  huge 
bull,  ahead  of  the  rest — furious  and  snorting 
— plunged  through  the  stream,  and  up  the 
slope.  I  was  lifted  and  tossed  high  into  the 
air.  I  was  thrown  rearwards,  and  fell  upon 
a  moving  mass.  I  did  not  feel  hurt  nor 
stunned.  I  felt  myself  carried  onward  upon 
the  backs  of  several  animals,  that,  in  the 
dense  drove,  ran  close  together.  These, 
frightened  at  their  strange  burden,  bellowed 
loudly,  and  dashed  on  to  the  front.  A  sudden 
thought  struck  me  ;  and,  fixing  on  that 
which  was  most  under  me,  I  dropped  my 
legs  astride  of  him,  embracing  his  hump, 
and  clutching  the  long  woolly  hair  that  grew 
upon  his  neck.     The  animal  "  routed"  mth 


46  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

extreme  terror ;  and  plunging  forward,  soon 
headed  the  hand  ! 

This  was  exactly  what  I  wanted  ;  and  on 
we  went  over  the  prairie — the  bull  running 
at  top  speed — believing,  no  doubt,  that  he 
had  a  panther  or  a  catamount  between  his 
shoulders ! 

I  had  no  desire  to  disabuse  him  of  this  be- 
lief; and — lest  he  should  deem  me  altogether 
harmless,  and  come  to  a  halt — I  slipped 
out  my  bowie — which  happened  to  be 
"handy" — and  pricked  him  up,  whenever 
he  showed  symptoms  of  lagging.  At  every 
fresh  touch  of  the  "  spur,"  he  roared  out, 
and  ran  forward  at  a  redoubled  pace. 

My  danger  was  still  extreme.  The  drove 
was  coming  on  behind  with  a  front  of  nearly 
a  mile !  I  could  not  have  cleared  it,  had  the 
bull  stopped,  and  left  me  on  the  prairie. 

Notwithstanding  the  peril  I  was  in,  I 
could  not  resist  laughing  at  my  ludicrous 
situation.  I  felt,  as  one  does,  when  looking 
at  a  good  comedy. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  47 

We  struck  through  a  village  of  "  prairie 
doci:s."  Here  I  fancied  the  animal  was  about 
to  turn  and  run  back.  This  brought  my 
mirth  to  a  sudden  pause ;  but  the  buffalo 
usually  runs  in  a  "bee  line,"  and  fortunately 
mine  made  no  exception  to  the  law.  On  he 
went,  sinking  to  the  knees,  kicking  the  dust 
from  the  conical  hills ;  snorting  and  bellow- 
ing with  rage  and  terror. 

The  "  Plum  buttes"  were  directly  in  the 
line  of  our  course.  I  had  seen  this  from  the 
start ;  and  knew  that  if  I  could  reach  them, 
I  would  be  safe.  They  were  nearly  three 
miles  from  the  bluff  where  we  had  bivouacked ; 
but,  in  my  ride,  I  fancied  them  ten ! 

A  small  one  rose  over  the  prairie,  several 
hundred  yards  nearer  than  the  main  heights. 
Towards  this  I  pricked  the  foaming  bull  in 
a  last  stretch ;  and  he  brought  me  cleverly 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  its  base. 

It  was  now  time  to  take  leave  of  my  dusky 
companion.     I  could  have  slaughtered  him, 


48  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

as  I  leaned  over  his  back.  My  knife  rested 
upon  the  most  vulnerable  part  of  his  huge 
body.  No  !  I  would  not  have  slain  that 
buffalo  for  the  Koh-i-noor. 

Untwisting  my  fingers  from  his  thick 
fleece,  I  slipped  down  over  his  tail,  and, 
without  as  much  as  saying  "  Good  night," 
ran  with  all  my  speed  towards  the  knoll.  I 
climbed  up;  and,  sitting  down  upon  a  loose 
boulder  of  rock,  looked  out  over  the  prairie. 

The  moon  was  still  shining  brightly.  My 
late  companion  had  halted — ^not  far  from 
where  I  had  left  him — and  stood  glaring 
back,  with  a  look  of  extreme  bewilderment ! 
There  was  something  so  comical  in  the  sight, 
that  I  yelled  with  laughter,  as  I  sat  securely 
on  my  perch. 

I  looked  to  the  south-west.  As  far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  the  prairie  was  black  and 
moving.  The  living  wave  came  rolling 
onward  and  toward  me  ;  but  I  could  now 
observe  it  in  safety.  The  myriads  of  glancing 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  49 

eyes,  sparkling  like  phosphoric  gleams,   no 
longer  flashed  terror. 

The  drove  was  still  half  a  mile  distant. 
I  thought  I  saw  quick  gleams,  and  heard  the 
report  of  fire-arms  away  over  its  left  border  ; 
but  I  could  not  be  certain.  I  had  begun  to 
think  of  the  fate  of  my  comrades ;  and  this 
gave  me  hopes  that  they  were  safe. 

The  bufi'aloes  approached  the  butte  on 
which  I  was  seated ;  and,  perceiving  the  ob- 
stacle, suddenly  forked  into  two  great  belts, 
and  swept  right  and  left  around  it.  What 
struck  me  at  this  moment  as  curious  was,  that 
mi/ bull — my  particular  bull — instead  of  wait- 
ing till  his  comrades  had  come  up,  and  falling  in 
among  the  foremost — suddenly  tossed  up  his 
head,  and  galloped  ofi",  as  if  a  pack  of  wolves 
had  been  after  him  !  He  ran  towards  the 
outside  of  the  band.  When  he  had  reached 
a  point  that  placed  him  fairly  beyond  the 
flank,  I  could  see  him  closing  in,  and  moving 
on  with  the  rest. 

VOL.  I.  D 


50  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

This  strange  tactic  of  my  late  companion 
puzzled  me  at  the  time,  but  I  afterwards 
learned  that  it  was  sound  strategy  on  his 
part.  Had  he  remained  where  I  had  parted 
with  him,  the  foremost  bulls  coming  up 
would  have  mistaken  him  for  an  individual 
of  some  other  tribe,  and  would  certainly 
have  gored  him  to  death ! 

I  sat  upon  the  rock  for  nearly  two  hours, 
silently  watching  the  sable  stream  as  it 
poured  past.  I  was  on  an  island  in  the 
midst  of  a  black  and  glittering  sea.  Atone 
time  I  fancied  I  was  moving,  that  the  butte 
was  sailing  onward,  and  the  buffaloes  were 
standing  still !  My  head  swam  with  dizzi- 
ness, and  I  leaped  to  my  feet  to  drive  away 
the  strange  illusion. 

The  torrent  rolled  onward;  and  at  length 
the  hindmost  went  straggling  past.  I  de- 
scended from  the  knoll;  and  commenced 
groping  my  way  over  the  black,  trodden 
earth.    What  was  lately  a  green  sward,  now 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  51 

presented  the  aspect  of  ground  freshly 
ploughed,  and  trampled  by  droves  of  oxen ! 

A  number  of  white  animals,  resembling  a 
flock  of  sheep,  passed  near  me.  They  were 
wolves  hanging  upon  the  skirts  of  the  herd. 

I  spurred  on,  keeping  to  the  southward. 
At  length  I  heard  voices ;  and,  in  the  clear 
moonlight,  could  see  several  horsemen  gal- 
loping in  circles  over  the  plain.  I  shouted 
"Halloa!"  A  voice  answered  mine  ;  and 
one  of  the  horsemen  came  galloping  up  ; 
it  was  St.  Yrain. 

"  Why,  Lord  bless  me,  Haller !  "  cried  he, 
reining  up,  and  bending  from  his  saddle  to 
get  a  better  view  of  me,  "  is  it  you  or  your 
ghost  ?  As  I  sit  here,  it's  the  man  himself, 
and  alive!" 

"  Never  in  better  condition,"  I  replied. 

"But  where  did  you  come  from?  the 
clouds?  the  sky?  Where?"  And  his  ques- 
tion was  echoed  by  the  others,  who  at  this 
moment  were  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  as 

d2 


Ss,^oMamo« 


52  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

if  they  had  not  seen  me  for  a  twelvemonth  ! 

Gode  seemed  to  be  the  most  perplexed  man 
of  the  party. 

'^  Mo7i  Dieiil  run  over — tramp  by  von 
million  dam  buffles,  et  pas  mort  !  Cr-r-re 
matin !  " 

"  We  were  hunting  for  your  body,  or 
rather  the  fragments  of  it,"  said  St.  Yrain. 
''  We  had  searched  every  foot  of  the  prairie 
for  a  mile  round ;  and  had  almost  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  fierce  brutes  had 
eaten  you  up." 

"  Eat  monsieur  up !  No !  tre  million 
buffles  no  him  eat.  Mon  Dieu !  Ha  Sleep- 
head,  pe  dam!" 

This  exclamation  of  the  Canadian  was  ad- 
dressed to  Hibbets,  w^ho  had  failed  to  warn 
my  comrades  of  where  I  lay,  and  thus 
placed  me  in  such  a  dangerous  predicament. 

"  We  saw  you  tossed  in  the  air,"  continued 
St.  Yrain,  "  and  fall  right  into  the  thick  of 
them.     Then,  of  course,  we  gave  you  up. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  53 

But  how,  in  God's  name,  have  you  got 
clear  ?" 

I  related  my  adventure  to  my  wondering 
comrades. 

"  Par  Dieu^'^  cried  Gode,  "  un  garcon  tre 
bizarre — une  aventure  tre  merveilleuse  T' 

From  that  hour  I  was  looked  upon  as  a 
^'  Captain"  on  the  prairies. 

My  comrades  had  made  good  work  of  it, 
as  a  dozen  dark  objects  that  lay  upon  the 
plain  testified.  They  had  found  my  rifle 
and  blankets — the  latter  trodden  into  the 
earth. 

St.  Vrain  had  still  a  few  drops  in  his 
flask  ;  and  after  swallowing  these,  and  again 
placing  the  guard,  we  returned  to  our 
prairie  couches,  and  slept  out  the  night. 


54  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  V. 


IN    A   BAD    "fix." 


A  FEW  days  afterwards,  another  "  adven- 
ture "  befel  me ;  and  I  began  to  think  that 
I  was  destined  to  become  a  hero  among  the 
"mountain  men." 

A  small  party  of  the  traders — myself 
among  the  number — had  pushed  forward 
a-head  of  the  caravan.  Our  object  was  to 
arrive  at  Santa  Fe,  a  day  or  two  before  the 
wagons,  in  order  to  have  everything  arranged 
with  the  governor  for  their  entrance  into  that 
capital.  We  took  the  route  by  the  Cimmaron. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  55 

Our  road,  for  a  hundred  miles  or  so, 
lay  through  a  barren  desert,  T^dthout  game, 
and  almost  without  water.  The  buffalo  had 
already  disappeared,  and  deer  were  equally 
scarce.  We  had  to  content  ourselves  on  the 
dried  meat  which  we  had  brought  from  the 
settlements.  We  were  in  the  deserts  of  the 
Artemisia.  Now  and  then  we  could  see  a 
stray  antelope  bounding  away  before  us, 
but  keeping  far  out  of  range.  They  too 
seemed  to  be  unusually  shy. 

On  the  third  day  after  leaving  the  cara- 
van, as  we  were  riding  near  the  Cimmaron, 
I  thought  I  observed  a  pronged  head  dis- 
appearing behind  a  swell  in  the  prairie. 
My  companions  were  sceptical,  and  would 
none  of  them  go  with  me ;  so,  wheeling  out 
of  the  trail,  I  started  alone.  One  of  the 
men — for  Gode  was  behind — kept  charge  of 
my  dog,  as  I  did  not  choose  to  take  him 
with  me,  lest  he  might  alarm  the  antelopes. 
My  horse  was  fresh  and  willing ;  and  whether 


56  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

successful  or  not,  I  knew  that  I  could  easily 
overtake  the  party  by  camping  time. 

I  struck  directly  towards  the  spot  where 
I  had  seen  the  object.  It  appeared  to  be 
only  half  a  mile  or  so  from  the  trail.  It 
proved  more  distant— a  common  illusion  in 
the  crystal  atmosphere  of  these  upland  re- 
gions. 

A  curiously-formed  ridge — a  couteau  des 
prairies^  on  a  small  scale — traversed  the 
plain  from  east  to  west.  A  thicket  of 
cactus  covered  part  of  its  summit.  Towards 
this  thicket  I  directed  myself. 

I  dismounted  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope, 
and  leading  my  horse  silently  up  among 
the  cacti  plants,  tied  him  to  one  of  their 
branches.  I  then  crept  cautiously  through 
the  thorny  leaves,  towards  the  point  where  I 
fancied  I  had  seen  the  game.  To  my  joy,  not 
one  antelope,  but  a  brace  of  those  beautiful 
animals,  was  quietly  grazing  beyond ;  but 
alas !  too  far  off  for  the  carry  of  my  rifle. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  57 

They  were  fully  three  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant, upon  a  smooth,  grassy  slope.  There 
was  not  even  a  sage  bush  to  cover  me, 
should  I  attempt  to  "approach"  them. 
What  was  to  be  done  ? 

I  lay  for  several  minutes,  thinking  over 
the  different  tricks  known  in  hunter-craft 
for  taking  the  antelope.  Should  I  imitate 
their  call?  Should  I  hoist  my  handkerchief, 
and  try  to  lure  them  up?  I  saw  that  they 
were  too  shy;  for,  at  short  intervals,  they 
threw  up  their  graceful  heads,  and  looked 
inquiringly  around  them.  I  remembered 
the  red  blanket  on  my  saddle.  I  could  dis- 
play this  upon  the  cactus  bushes — perhaps 
it  would  attract  them. 

I  had  no  alternative ;  and  was  turning 
to  go  back  for  the  blanket;  when,  all  at  once, 
my  eye  rested  upon  a  clay- coloured  line 
running  across  the  prairie,  beyond  where 
the  animals  were  feeding.  It  was  a  break 
in  the  surface  of  the  plain — a  buffalo  road^ 

d3 


58  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

or  the  channel  of  an  arroyo — in  either  case 
the  very  cover  I  wanted — for  the  animals 
were  not  a  hundred  yards  from  it ;  and  were 
getting  still  nearer  to  it  as  they  fed. 

Creeping  back  out  of  the  thicket,  I  ran 
along  the  side  of  the  slope  toward  a  point, 
where  I  had  noticed  that  the  ridge  was 
depressed  to  the  prairie  level.  Here,  to  my 
surprise,  I  found  myself  on  the  banks  of  a 
broad  arroyo,  whose  water — clear  and  shal- 
low— ran  slowly  over  a  bed  of  sand  and 
gypsum. 

The  banks  were  low — not  over  three  feet 
above  the  surface  of  the  water — except 
where  the  ridge  impinged  upon  the  stream. 
Here  there  was  a  high  bluff ;  and,  hurrying 
around  its  base,  I  entered  the  channel ;  and 
commenced  wading  upward. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  I  soon  came  to  a 
bend,  where  the  stream,  after  running  pa- 
rallel to  the  ridge,  swept  round  and  canoned 
through  it.     At  this  place  I   stopped ;  and 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  59 

looked  cautiously  over  the  bank.  The  ante- 
lopes had  approached  within  less  than  rifle 
range  of  the  arroyo ;  but  they  were  yet  far 
above  my  position.  They  were  still  quietly 
feedino:  and  unconscious  of  dano:er.  I  as^ain 
bent  do^^Ti,  and  waded  on. 

It  was  a  difficult  task  proceeding  in  this 
way.  The  bed  of  the  creek  was  soft  and 
yielding,  and  I  was  compelled  to  tread 
slowly  and  silently,  lest  I  should  alarm  the 
game;  but  I  was  cheered  in  my  exertions 
by  the  prospect  of  fresh  venison  for  my 
supper. 

After  a  weary  drag  of  several  hundred 
yards,  I  came  opposite  to  a  small  clump  of 
wormwood  bushes,  growing  out  of  the  bank. 
''  I  may  be  high  enough,"  thought  I,  "  these 
will  serve  for  cover." 

I  raised  my  body  gradually,  until  I  could 
see  through  the  leaves.  I  was  in  the  right 
spot. 

I  brought  my  rifle  to  a  level;  sighted  for 


60  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  heart  of  the  buck ;  and  fired.  The  ani- 
mal leaped  from  the  ground;  and  fell  back 
lifeless. 

I  was  about  to  rush  forward,  and  secure 
my  prize,  when  I  observed  the  doe — instead 
of  running  off  as  I  had  expected — go  up  to 
her  fallen  partner,  and  press  her  tapering 
nose  to  his  body.  She  was  not  more  than 
twenty  yards  from  me ;  and  I  could  plainly 
see  that  her  look  was  one  of  inquiry,  and 
bewilderment !  All  at  once,  she  seemed  to 
comprehend  the  fatal  truth ;  and  throwing 
back  her  head,  commenced  uttering  the  most 
piteous  cries — at  the  same  time  running  in 
circles  around  the  body ! 

I  stood  wavering  between  two  minds.  My 
first  impulse  had  been  to  reload,  and  kill  the 
doe;  but  her  plaintive  voice  entered  my 
heart,  disarming  me  of  all  hostile  intentions. 
Plad  I  dreamt  of  witnessing  this  painful 
spectacle,  I  should  not  have  left  the  trail. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  61 

But  the  mischief  was  now  done.  "  I  have 
worse  than  killed  her,"  thought  I,  "it  will 
be  better  to  despatch  her  at  once." 

Actuated  by  these  principles  of  a  common, 
but  to  her  fatal,  humanity,  I  rested  the  butt 
of  my  rifle,  and  reloaded.  With  a  falter- 
ing hand,  I  again  levelled  the  piece,  and 
fired. 

My  nerves  were  steady  enough  to  do 
the  work.  When  the  smoke  floated  aside, 
I  could  see  the  little  creature  bleeding  upon 
the  grass — her  head  resting  against  the  body 
of  her  murdered  mate ! 

I  shouldered  my  rifle;  and  was  about  to 
move  forward,  when,  to  my  astonishment,  I 
found  that  I  was  caught  by  the  feet !  I  was 
held  firml}^,  as  if  my  legs  had  been  screwed 
in  a  vice ! 

I  made  an  effort  to  extricate  myself — 
another,  more  violent,  and  equally  unsuccess- 
ful— and,  with  a  third,  I  lost  my  balance, 
and  fell  back  upon  the  water ! 


62  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

Half  suffocated,  I  regained  my  upright 
position ;  but  only  to  find  that  I  was  held 
as  fast  as  ever ! 

Again  I  struggled  to  free  my  limbs.  I 
could  neither  move  them  backward  nor  for- 
ward— to  the  right  nor  the  left ;  and  I  became 
sensible  that  I  was  gradually  going  down. 
Then  the  fearful  truth  flashed  upon  me, — 
/  was  sinking  in  a  quicksand  I 

A  feeling  of  horror  came  over  me.  I  re- 
newed my  efforts  with  the  energy  of  des- 
peration. I  leant  to  one  side,  then  to  the 
other,  almost  wrenching  my  knees  from 
their  sockets.  My  feet  remained  fast  as  ever. 
I  could  not  move  them  an  inch  ! 

The  soft  clingy  sand  already  overtopped 
my  horse-skin  boots,  wedging  them  around 
my  ankles,  so  that  I  was  unable  to  draw 
them  off;  and  I  could  feel  that  I  was  still 
sinking,  slowly  but  surely,  as  though  some 
subterraneous  monster  were  leisurely  drag- 
ging me  down  !  This  very  thought  caused 
me  a  fresh  thrill  of  horror ;    and  I  called 


THE    SCALP-HU^^TERS.  63 

aloud  for  help !  To  whom  ?  There  was  no 
one  within  miles  of  me — no  living  thing. 
Yes !  the  neigh  of  my  horse  answered  me 
from  the  hiU,  mocking  my  despair! 

I  bent  forward,  as  well  as  my  constrained 
position  would  permit ;  and,  with  frenzied 
fingers,  commenced  tearing  up  the  sand. 
I  could  barely  reach  the  surface ;  and  the 
little  hollow,  I  was  able  to  make,  filled  up 
almost  as  soon  as  it  had  been  formed  ! 

A  thought  occurred  to  me.  My  rifle 
might  support  me,  placed  horizontally.  I 
looked  around  for  it.  It  was  not  to  be 
seen.       It   had   sunk   beneath    the   sand  ! 

Could  I  throw  my  body  flat,  and  prevent 
myself  from  sinking  deeper  ?  No.  The 
water  was  two  feet  in  depth.  I  should 
drown  at  once  ! 

This  last  hope  left  me  as  soon  as  formed. 
1  could  think  of  no  plan  to  save  myself.  I 
could  make  no  further  eflbrt.  A  strano^e 
stupor  seized  upon  me.     My  very  thoughts 


64  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

became   paralysed.       I   knew   that   I   was 
going  mad.     For  a  moment  /  was  mad  ! 

After  an  interval,  my  senses  returned. 
I  made  an  effort  to  rouse  my  mind  from 
its  paralysis,  in  order  that  I  might  meet 
death — which  I  now  believed  to  be  certain 
— as  a  man  should. 

I  stood  erect.  My  eyes  had  sunk  to  the 
prairie  level,  and  rested  upon  the  still 
bleeding  victims  of  my  cruelty.  My  heart 
smote  me  at  the  sight.  Was  I  suffering  a 
retribution  of  God  ? 

With  humbled  and  penitent  thoughts,  I 
turned  my  face  to  heaven,  almost  dreading 
that  some  sign  of  omnipotent  anger  would 
scowl  upon  me  from  above.  But  no.  The 
sun  was  shining  as  bright  as  ever ;  and  the 
blue  canopy  of  the  world  was  without  a 
cloud. 

I  gazed  upward,  and  prayed,  with  an 
earnestness  known  only  to  the  hearts  of 
men  in  positions  of  peril  like  mine. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  65 

As  I  continued  to  look  up,  an  object  at- 
tracted my  attention.  Against  the  sky,  I 
distino-uished  the  outhnes  of  a  laro-e  dark 
bird.  I  knew  it  to  be  the  obscene  bird  of 
the  plains — the  buzzard  vulture.  Whence 
had  it  come  ?  Who  knows?  Far  beyond 
the  reach  of  human  eye,  it  had  seen,  or 
scented,  the  slaughtered  antelopes ;  and,  on 
broad  silent  wing,  was  now  descending  to 
the  feast  of  death. 

Presently  another,  and  another,  and 
many  others,  mottled  the  blue  field  of  the 
heavens,  curving  and  wheeling  silently 
earthward.  Then,  the  foremost  swooped 
down  upon  the  bank ;  and,  after  gazing 
around  for  a  moment,  flapped  off  towards 
its  prey. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  prairie  was  black 
with  filthy  birds,  who  clambered  over 
the  dead  antelopes ;  and  beat  their  wings 
against  each  other,  while  they  tore  out 
the  eyes  of  the  quarry  with  their  fetid  beaks. 


66  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

And  now  came  gaunt  wolves  —  sneak- 
ing and  hungry  —  stealing  out  of  the 
cactus  thicket ;  and  loping,  coward-like, 
over  the  green  swells  of  the  prairie.  These, 
after  a  battle,  drove  away  the  vultures; 
and  tore  up  the  prey  —  all  the  while 
growling  and  snapping  vengefully  at  each 
other. 

"  Thank  heaven !  1  shall  at  least  be  saved 
from  this!" 

I  was  soon  relieved  from  the  sight. 
My  eyes  had  sunk  below  the  level  of  the 
bank.  I  had  looked  my  last  on  the  fair 
green  earth.  I  could  now  see  only  the 
clayey  walls  that  contained  the  river,  and 
the  water  that  ran  unheeding  past  me. 

Once  more  I  fixed  my  gaze  upon  the 
sky ;  and,  with  prayerful  heart,  endeavoured 
to  resign  myself  to  my  fate. 

In  spite  of  my  endeavours  to  be  calm,  the 
memories  of  earthly  pleasures,  and  friends, 
and   home,  came  over  me — causing  me,  at 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  67 

intervals,  to  break  into  wild  paroxysms,  and 
make  fresh  though  fruitless  struggles. 

Again  I  was  attracted  by  the  neighing 
of  my  horse. 

A  thought  entered  my  mind,  filling  me  with 
fresh  hopes.     "  Perhaps  my  horse " 

I  lost  not  a  moment.  I  raised  my  voice  to 
its  highest  pitch;  and  called  the  animal  by 
name.  I  knew  that  he  would  come  at  my  call. 
I  had  tied  him  but  slightly.  The  cactus  limb 
would  snap  off.  I  called  again,  repeating 
words  that  were  well  known  to  him.  I  lis- 
tened with  a  bounding  heart.  For  a  moment 
there  was  silence.  Then  I  heard  the  quick 
sounds  of  his  hoof,  as  though  the  animal  was 
rearing  and  struggling  to  free  himself.  Then 
I  could  distinguish  the  stroke  of  his  heels, 
in  a  measured  and  regular  gallop ! 

Nearer  came  the  sounds — nearer  and 
clearer,  until  the  gallant  brute  bounded  out 
on  the  bank  above  me.  There  he  halted, 
and  flinging  back  his  tossed  mane,  uttered 


68  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

a  shrill  neigh.  He  was  bewildered,  and 
looked  upon  every  side,  snorting  loudly  ! 

I  knew  that,  having  once  seen  me,  he 
w^ould  not  stop  until  he  had  pressed  his  nose 
against  my  cheek — for  this  was  his  usual 
custom.  Holding  out  my  hands,  I  again 
uttered  the  magic  words. 

Now  looking  downward  he  perceived  me ; 
and,  stretching  himself,  sprang  out  into  the 
channel.  The  next  moment  I  held  him  by 
the  bridle  ! 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  was  still 
going  dow^n;  and  my  armpits  w^ere  fast 
nearing  the  surface  of  the  quicksand. 

I  caught  the  lariat;  and,  passing  it 
under  the  saddle-girths  fastened  it  in  a  tight 
firm  knot.  I  then  looped  the  trailing  end, 
making  it  secure  around  my  body.  I  had 
left  enough  of  the  rope,  between  the  bit  ring 
and  the  girths,  to  enable  me  to  check  and 
guide  the  animal — in  case  the  drag  upon  my 
body  should  be  too  painful. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  69 

All  this  Tvhile  the  dumb  brute  seemed  to 
comprehend  what  I  was  about.  He  knew 
too  the  nature  of  the  ground  on  which  he 
stood ;  for,  during  the  operation,  he  kept  lift- 
ing his  feet  alternately  to  prevent  himself 
from  sinking! 

My  arrangements  were  at  length  com- 
pleted ;  and,  with  a  feehng  of  terrible  anxiety, 
I  gave  my  horse  the  signal  to  move  forward. 
Instead  of  going  off  with  a  start,  the  intelli- 
gent animal  stepped  away  slowly,  as  though 
he  understood  my  situation!  The  lariat 
tightened — I  felt  my  body  moving,  and,  the 
next  moment,  experienced  a  Avild  delight 
— a  feeling  I  cannot  describe — as  I  found 
myself  dragged  out  of  the  sand ! 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  with  a  shout  of  joy. 
I  rushed  up  to  my  steed;  and,  throwing  my 
arms  around  his  neck,  kissed  him  with  as 
much  delight  as  I  would  have  kissed  a  beau- 
tiful girl.     He  answered  my  embrace  with 


70  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

a  low  wliimper,  that  told  me  I  was  under- 
stood ! 

1  looked  for  my  rifle.  Fortunately  it  had 
not  sunk  deeply,  and  I  soon  found  it.  My 
boots  were  behind  me,  but  I  stayed  not  to 
look  for  them — being  smitten  with  a  whole- 
some dread  of  the  place  where  I  had  left 
them. 

I  was  not  long  in  retreating  from  the 
arroyo;  and,  mounting,  I  galloped  back  to 
the  trail. 

It  was  sundown,  before  I  reached  camp; 
where  I  was  met  by  the  inquiries  of  my  won- 
dering companions.  "  Did  you  come  across 
the  'goats?'"  "  Where's  your  boots?" 
"  Whether  have  you  been  hunting  or  fish- 
ing?" 

I  answered  all  these  questions,  by  relating 
my  adventures;  and,  for  that  night,  I  was 
again  the  hero  of  the  camp  fire. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  71 


CHAPTER  yj. 


SANTA  FE. 


After  a  week's  climbing  through  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  we  descended  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Del  Norte;  and  arrived  at  the 
capital  of  New  Mexico  —  the  far-famed 
Santa  Fe.  Next  day  the  caravan  itself  came 
in — for  we  had  lost  time  on  the  southern 
route ;  and  the  wagons,  travelling  by  the 
Raton  Pass,  had  made  a  good  journey  of  it. 

We  had  no  difficulty  about  their  en- 
trance into  the  country,  with  the  proviso 
that  we  paid  five  hundred  dollars  of  Alcavala 


72  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

tax,  upon  each  wagon.  This  was  a  greater 
extortion  than  usual ;  but  the  traders  were 
compelled  to  accept  the  impost. 

Santa  Fe  is  the  entrepot  of  the  province, 
and  the  chief  seat  of  its  trade.  On  reaching 
it,  we  halted,  "  camping"  without  the  walls. 

St.  Vrain,  several  other  proprietaires,  and 
myself,  took  up  our  quarters  at  the  Fonda ; 
where  we  endeavoured — by  means  of  the 
sparkling  vintage  of  El  Paso — to  make  our- 
selves oblivious  of  the  hardships  we  had  en- 
dured in  the  passage  of  the  plains. 

The  night  of  our  arrival  was  given  to 
feasting  and  making  merry. 

Next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  the 
voice  of  my  man  Gode — who  appeared  to  be 
in  high  spirits — singing  a  snatch  of  a 
Canadian  boat  song. 

"  Ah,  monsieur  !  "  cried  he,  seeing  me 
awake,  "to-night — adjourdhui — une  grand 
fonction — one  bal — vat  le  dam  Mexicaine 
he  call  fandango.    Tre  bien,  monsieur.    You 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  73 

vill  sure  have  grand  plaisir  to  see  un  fan- 
dango Mexicaine?  " 

"  Not  I,  Gode ;  my  countrymen  are  not 
so  fond  of  dancing  as  yours." 

**  C'est  vrai,  Monsieur;  but  von  fandango 
is  tres  curieux.  You  sail  see  ver  many  sort 
of  de  pas.  Bolero,  et  valse,  wis  de  Coona,  and 
ver  many  more  pas,  all  mix  up  in  von 
puchero.  Allons  !  monsieur,  you  vill  see 
ver  many  pretty  girl,  avec  les  yeux  tre  noir, 
and  ver  short — ah,  pe  Gar  !  ver  short — vat 
you  call  em  in  Americaine  ?  " 

"  1  do  not  know  what  you  allude  to." 

*'Cela!  Zis,  Monsieur,"  holding  out  the 
skirt  .of  his  hunting  shirt,  ''  Par  Dieu  !  now 
I  have  him — petticoes,  ver  short  petticoes. 
Ah,  pe  Gar!  you  sail  see  vat  you  sail  see 
en  un  fandang  Mexicaine." 

"  Las  niiias  de  Durango 
Conmigo  bailandas, 
Al  cielo  saltandas, 
En  el  fandango  — en  el  fan-dang — o." 

VOL.  I.  E 


74  THE    SCALP-HUKTERS. 

"  Ha !  here  come  Monsieur  St.  Yrain. 
Ecoutez !  He  nevare  not  go  to  fandango. 
Sacre !  how  Monsieur  dance !  like  un  maitre 
de  ballet.  Mais  he  be  de  sangre — blood  Fran- 
cais.     Ecoutez  ! " 

'  *  Al  cielo  saltandas. 

En  el  fandango — en  el  fan-dang — " 
^^HalGode!" 
"  Monsieur?" 

"  Trot  over  to  the  Cantina^  and  beg,  bor- 
row, buy,  or  steal  a  bottle  of  the  best  Paso." 
"  Sail  I  try  steal  'im.  Monsieur  St.  Yrain?" 
inquired  God6,  with  a  knowing  grin. 

''  No,  you  old  Canadian  thief!  pay  for  it. 
There's  the  money.  Best  Paso,  do  you 
hear?  cool  and  sparkling.  Now,  Yaya  i 
Bon  jour,  my  bold  rider  of  buifalo  bulls ! 
Still  abed,  I  see." 

''  My  head  aches  as  if  it  would  split." 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  so  does  mine ;  but  Code's 
gone  for  medicine.     Hair  of  the  dog  good 
for  the  bite  ;  come,  jump  up  !" 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  75 

"  Wait  till  I  get  a  dose  of  your  medicine." 
"  True ;  you'll  feel  better  then.     I  say — 
city  life  don't  agree  with  us,  eh  ?  " 
"  You  call  this  a  city,  do  you?  " 
"Ay,   so  it  is  styled  in  these  parts— /<7 
ciudad  de  Santa  Fe — the  famous  city  of  Santa 
Fe — the  capital  of  Nuevo  Mexico — the  me- 
tropolis of  all  prairiedom — the  paradise  of 
traders,  trappers,  and  thieves!" 

"And  this  is  the  progress  of  300  years! 
Why  these  people  have  hardly  passed  the 
first  stages  of  civilization  ?  " 

"  Rather  say  they  are  passing  the  last 
stages  of  it.  Here  in  this  far  oasis,  you  will 
find  painting,  poetry,  dancing,  theatres, 
and  music — fetes  and  fireworks,  with  all  the 
little  amorous  arts  that  characterize  a  nation's 
decline.  You  will  meet  with  numerous 
Don  Quixotes — soi  disant\img\\t^  errant — 
Romeos  without  the  heart,  and  ruffians 
without  the  courage.     You  will  meet  with 

E  2 


76  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

many  things,  before  you  encounter  either 
virtue  or  honesty.     Hola !  muchacho !  " 

^'  Que  es,  Seilor  ?" 

''Hay  cafe?" 

"  Si,  Sefior." 

"  Bring  us  a  couple  of  tazas  then — dos 
tazas,  do  you  hear  ?  and  quick — aprisa  ! 
aprisaf  " 

"  Si,  Seilor." 

"Ha!  here  comes  le  voyageur  Cana- 
dienne.  So,  old  Nor- west !  you've  brought 
the  wine? 

"  Vin  delicieuse,  Monsieur  St.  Yrain ! 
equal  to  ze  vintage  Fran9ais." 

''He  is  right,  Haller — Tsap — tsap — deli- 
cious you  may  say,  good  Gode.  Tsap — tsap. 
Come  drink !  It'll  make  you  feel  as  strong 
as  a  buffalo.  See !  it  seethes  like  a  soda 
spring !  like  Fontaine- que-bouille — eh,  Gode  ?" 
"  Oui,  Monsieur ;  ver  like  Fontaine-que- 
bouille.     Pe  Gar,  oui." 

"  Drink,  man,  drink !  don't  fear  it — it's  the 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  77 

pure  juice.  Smell  the  flavour — taste  the 
bouquet.  Lord!  what  wine  the  Yankees 
will  one  day  squeeze  out  of  these  New 
Mexican  grapes !" 

"Why?  do  you  think  the  Yankees  have 
an  eye  to  this  quarter?" 

"  Think !  I  know  it ;  and  why  not.  What 
use  are  these  minikins  in  creation?  Only 
to  cumber  the  earth.  Well,  mozo?  you 
have  brought  the  coffee  ?" 

"  Ya  esta,  Seiior." 

"Here!  try  some  of  this — it  will  help 
to  set  you  on  your  feet.  They  can  make 
cofiee,  and  no  mistake.  It  takes  a  Spaniard 
to  do  that." 

"  What  is  this  fandango,  Gode  has  been 
telling  me  about?" 

"Ah!  true.  We  are  to  have  a  famous 
one  to-nidit.     You'll  o'o  of  course?" 

"  Out  of  curiosity." 

"Very  well — you  will  have  your  curiosity 
gratified.     The  blustering  old  grampus  of  a 


78  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

governor  is  to  honour  the  ball  with  his  pre- 
sence ;  and  it  is  said  his  pretty  seiiora ;  that 
I  don't  believe." 

"Why  not?" 

"  He's  too  much  afraid  lest  one  of  these 
wild  Americanos  may  whip  her  off  on  the 
can  tie  of  his  saddle.  Such  things  have  been 
done,  in  this  very  valley.  By  St.  Mary  ! 
she  is  good  looking,"  continued  St.  Yrain, 
in  a  half  soliloquy,  "  and  I  knew  a  man — 
the  cursed  old  tyrant !  only  think  of  it !" 

"Of  what?" 

"  The  way  he  has  bled  us.  Five  hundred 
dollars  a  wagon,  and  a  hundred  of  them  at 
that— in  all  50,000  dollars !" 

"  But  will  he  pocket  all  this?  will  not  the 
government ?'^ 

"  Government!  no,  every  cent  of  it.  He 
is  the  government  here ;  and,  with  the  help 
of  this  instalment,  he  will  rule  these  mise- 
rable wretches  with  an  iron  rod.  Poor  de- 
vils!" 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  79 

^'  And  yet  they  hate  hhn,  do  they  not?" 

"  Him  and  his.  God  knows  they  have 
reason." 

''  It  is  strange  they  do  not  rebel?" 

"  They  have  at  times ;  but  what  can  the 
poor  devils  do?  Like  all  true  tyrants,  he 
has  divided  them ;  and  makes  them  spend 
their  heart's  hatred  on  one  another." 

*'  But  he  seems  not  to  have  a  very  large 
army ;  no  body-guard — " 

"  Body-guard !"  cried  St.  Yrain,  inter- 
rupting me,  "look  out!  there's  his  body- 
guard !" 

'^  Indios  bravos  f  les  Navajoes!^^  ex- 
claimed Gode,  at  the  same  instant. 

I  looked  forth  into  the  street.  Half-a- 
dozen  tall  savages,  wrapped  in  striped  ,^e- 
rapes^  were  passing.  Their  wild  hungry 
looks,  and  slow  proud  walk  at  once  distin- 
guished them  from  the  Indios  manzos — the 
water-drawing,  wood-hewing  Pueblos. 

"  Are  they  Navajoes?"  I  asked. 


80  THE    SCALP-Hms^TERS. 

''  Qui,  Monsieur !  oui  1"  replied  Gode,  ap- 
parently with  some  excitement.  "  Sacre 
Dieu !    Navajoes — tre  dam  Xavajoes  !" 

"  There's  no  mistaking  them^''  added  St. 
Yrain. 

^  "  But  the  Navajoes  are  the  notorious 
enemies  of  the  New  Mexicans!  How  come 
they  to  be  here? — Prisoners?" 

"  Do  they  look  like  prisoners?" 

They  certainly  showed  no  signs  of  capti- 
vity in  either  look  or  gesture.  They  strode 
proudly  up  the  street — occasionally  glancing 
at  the  passers,  with  an  air  of  savage  and 
lordly  contempt. 

"  Why  then  are  they  here?  Their  country 
lies  far  to  the  west  ?" 

"  That  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  Nuevo  Mexico, 
about  which  I  will  enlighten  you  some  other 
time.  They  are  now  protected  by  a  treaty 
of  peace, — which  is  only  binding  upon  thern^ 
so  long  as  it  may  suit  their  convenience  to 
recognise  it.      At  present,  they  are  as  free 


THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS.  81 

here  as  you  or  I, — indeed,  more  so,  when  it 
comes  to  that.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  we 
were  to  meet  them  at  the  fandango  to- 
night." 

'*  I  have  heard  that  the  Navajoes  are 
cannibals?" 

"  It  is  true.  Look  at  them  this  minute ! 
See  how  tliey  gloat  upon  that  chubby  little 
fellow,  who  seems  instinctively  to  fear  them. 
Lucky  for  the  urchin  it's  broad  daylight ; 
or  he  might  get  chucked  under  one  of  those 
striped  blankets." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,  St.  Vrain?" 

By  my  word,  I  am  not  jesting.  If  I 
mistake  not,  Gode's  experience  will  con- 
firm what  I  have  said.     Eh,  voyageur?" 

*'  C'est  vrai,  Monsieur.  I  vas  prisioniere  in 
le  nation — not  Navagh,  but  le  dam  Apache 
— moch  the  same — pour  tree  mons.  I 
have  les  sauvages  seen  manger —  eat — one — 
deux — tree — tree  enfant s  rotis,  like  hump 
rib  of  de  buffle.  C'est  vrai.  Messieurs,  c'est 
vrai." 

E  3 


82  THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS. 

''It  is  quite  true, — both  Apaches  and 
Navajoes  carry  off  children  from  the  valley, 
here,  in  their  grand  forays ;  and  it  is  said,  by 
those  who  should  know,  that  most  of  them 
are  used  in  that  way.  Whether  as  a  sacrifice 
to  the  fiery  god  Quetzalcoatl,  or  whether 
from  a  fondness  for  human  flesh,  no  one  has 
yet  been  able  to  determine.  In  fact,  with 
all  their  propinquity  to  this  place,  there  is 
little  known  about  them.  Few,  who  have 
visited  th-eir  towns,  have  had  Gode's  luck  to 
get  away  again.  No  man  of  these  parts 
ever  ventures  across  the  western  Sierras." 

"  And  how  came  you,  Monsieur  Gode,  to 
save  your  scalp?" 

"  Pourquoi,  Monsieur,  je'n'ai  pas.  I  not 
haves  scalp-lock — vat  de  trappare  Yankee 
call '  har,'  mon  scalp-lock  is  fabrique  of  von 
barbiere  de  Saint  Luis.     Yoila !  Monsieur." 

So  saying,  the  Canadian  lifted  his  cap; 
and  along  with  it,  what  I  had,  up  to  this 
time,   looked  upon  as  a   beautiful  curling 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  83 

head  of  hair;  but  which  now  proved  to  be 
only  a  wig  ! 

"  Now,  Messieurs!"  cried  he,  in  good 
humour;  "  how  les  sauvages  my  scalp  take? 
Le  dam  Indienne  no  have  cash -hold. 
Sacr-r-r-el'^ 

St.  Yrain  and  I  were  unable  to  restrain 
our  laughter  at  the  altered  and  comical 
appearance  of  the  Canadian. 

*' Come  Gode!  the  least  you  can  do  after  that, 
is  to  take  a  drink.     Here,  help  yourself!" 

"  Tre  oblige.  Monsieur  St.  Vrain.  Je 
vous  remerci."  And  the  ever-thirsty  voya- 
geur  quaffed  off  the  nectar  of  El  Paso,  like 
so  much  fresh  milk. 

"  Come  Haller !  We  must  to  the  wagons. 
Business  first, — then  pleasure,  such  as  we 
may  find  here  among  these  brick  stacks. 
But  we'll  have  some  fun  in  Chihuahua." 

"  And  you  think  we  shall  go  there?'' 

"  Certainly.  They  do  not  want  the  fourth 
part  of  our  stuff  here.  We  must  cany  it  on 
to  the  head  market.    To  the  camp  !  Allons !" 


84  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  FANDANGO. 

In  the  evening  I  sat  in  my  room  waiting 
for  St.  Yrain.  His  voice  reached  me  from 
wihout — 

"  Las  niiias  de  Durango, 
Conmigo  bailandas, 
Al  cielo, Ha  ! 

Are  you  ready,  my  bold  rider?  " 
*'  Not   quite.      Sit  down  a  minute,   and 
wait." 

"  Hurry  then — the  dancing's  begun.  I 
have  just  come  that  way.  What !  that  your 
ball  dress?  Ha-ha-ha !"  screamed  St.  Vrain — 
seeing  me  unpack  a  blue  coat,  and  a  pair  of 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  85 

dark  pantaloons  in  a  tolerable  state  of  pre- 
servation. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  I,  looking  up,  ''  what 
fault  do  you  find  ? — but  is  that  your  ball 
dress?" 

No  change  had  taken  place  in  the  ordin- 
ary raiment  of  my  friend.  The  fringed 
hunting  shirt  and  leggings,  the  belt,  the 
bowie,  and  the  pistols  were  all  before  me ! 

"  Yes,  my  dandy  ;  this  is  my  ball  dress — 
it  aint  any  thing  shorter ;  and  if  you'll  take 
my  advice,  you'll  wear  what  you  have  got 
on  your  back.  How  will  your  long-tailed 
blue  look,  with  a  broad  belt  and  bowie 
strapped  round  the  skirts?  Ha-ha-ha!" 

"  But  why  take  either  belt  or  bowie  ?  you 
are  surely  not  going  into  a  ball-room  with 
your  pistols  in  that  fashion  ?" 

^'  And  how  else  should  I  carry  them?  In 
my  hands?" 

"Leave  them  here." 

"  Ha !  ha !  that  would  be  a  green  trick. 
No,  no.     Once  bit,  twice  shy.     You  don't 


86  THE  ,  SCiU:>P-HUNTERS. 

catch  this  coon  going  into  any  fandango  in 
Santa  Fe,  without  his  six-shooters.  Come  ! 
keep  on  that  shirt — let  your  leggins  sweat 
where  they  are ;  and  buckle  this  about  you. 
That's  the  costume  du  hat  in  these  parts." 

"  If  you  assure  me,  that  my  dress  will  be 
commeilfaut,  Vm  agreed." 

"  It  tcont  be  with  the  long-tailed  blue,  I 
promise  you." 

The  long-tailed  blue  was  restored  forthwith 
to  its  nook  in  my  portmanteau. 

St.  Yrain  was  right.  On  arriving  at  the 
room,  a  large  sala  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Plaza,  we  found  it  filled  with  hun- 
ters, trappers,  traders,  and  teamsters,  all 
swaggering  about  in  their  usual  mountain 
"rig."  Mixed  among  them,  were  some  two  or 
three  score  of  the  "  natives,"  with  an  equal 
number  of  seiioritas,  all  of  whom,  by  their 
style  of  dress,  I  recognised  as  "  poblanas," 
or  persons  of  the  lower  class— the  only  class 
in  fact  to  be  met  with  in  Santa  Fe ! 

As  we  entered,  most  of  the  men  had  thrown 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  87 

aside  their  serapes  for  the  dance ;  and  ap- 
peared in  all  the  finery  of  embroidered  velvet, 
stamped  leather,  and  shining  "  castletops." 
The  women  looked  not  less  picturesque,  in 
their  bright  "  naguas,"  snowy  chemisettes, 
and  small  satin  slippers.  Some  of  them 
flounced  it  in  polka  jackets ;  for  even  to  that 
remote  region,  the  famous  dance  had  found 
its  way  !  "Have  you  heard  of  the  electric 
telegraph?"  "  No,  Senor."  '*  Can  you  tell 
me  what  a  railroad  is?"  "  Quien  sabe?"  "  La 
Polka?"  "Ah!  Senor,  la  polka,  la  polka, 
cosa  buenita,  tan  graciosa !   vaya  ! " 

The  ball  room  was  a  laro;e  oblon^:  sala, 

O  0  7 

with  a  "banquette"  running  all  around  it. 
Upon  this  the  dancers  seated  themselves, 
drew  out  their  husk  cigarettes,  chatted,  and 
smoked  during  the  intervals  of  the  dance. 
In  one  corner,  half-a-dozen  sons  of  Orpheus 
twanged  away  upon  harp,  guitar,  and 
bandolon ;  occasionally  helping  out  the 
music  with  a  shrill  half-Indian  chant. 
In  another  angle  of  the  apartment,  puros 


88  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

and  "  Taos  "  whiskey  were  dealt  out  to  the 
thirsty  mountaineers,  who  made  the  sola 
ring  with  their  wild  ejaculations. 

There  were  scenes  like  the  following  : 

'^  Hyar,  my  little  mochacha !  vamos, 
vamos,  ter  dance!  mucho  bueno?  Mucho 
bueno?     WiU  ye?" 

This  is  from  a  great  rough  fellow  of  six  feet 
and  over,  addressed  to  a  trim  little  poblana. 

"  Mucho  bueno,  Seilor  Americano  !  " 
replies  the  lady. 

"  Hooraw  for  you !  Come  along !  let's 
licker  fust !  You're  the  gall  for  my  beaver. 
Wbart'll  yer  drink  ?   Agwardent,  or  vino  ?" 

"Copitita  de  vino,  Senor."  (A  small 
glass  of  mne,  Sir.) 

"  Hyar,  yer  darned  greaser !  Set  out 
yer  vino  in  a  squll's  jump !  Now,  my 
little  'un,  hyar's  luck,  and  a  good  husband ! " 

"  Gracias,  Seiior  Americano  !"| 

"  What !  you  understand  that  ?  You 
intende,  do  yer?" 

"Si,  Senor!" 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  89 

"  Hooraw,  then  !  Look  hyar,  little  'un, — 
kin  yer  go  the  bar  dance  ? " 

''  No  entiende.''^ 

"  Yer  don't  understan'  it !  Hyar  it  is — 
this  awayj"  and  the  clumsy  hunter  began 
to  show  off  before  his  partner,  in  an  imita- 
tion of  the  grizzly  bear. 

"  Hilloa,  Bill !"  cries  a  comrade,  "  yer'll 
be  trapped  if  yer  don't  look  sharp.  How's 
yer  kidneys,  hoss  ?" 

"  I'm  dog-gone,  Jim,  if  I  don't  feel  queery 
about  hyar,"  replies  the  hunter,  spreading 
his  great  paw  over  the  region  of  the  heart. 

"  Don't  be  skeert,  man — it's  a  nice  gal, 
anyways." 

"  Nice !  Draw  a  bead  on  them  eyes,  if  yer 
kin;  and  jest  squint  down  at  them  ankles!" 

"  Good  sights — a  heap  o'  quarter — clean 
shanks." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  old  chap  '11  take  for 
her.  I'm  most  froze  for  a  squaw.  Haint 
had  nery  one  since  I  tuk  back  that  Crow 
woman  on  the  Yeller-stone." 


90  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

"  Wall,  man !  yer  ain't  among  Injuns. 
Get  the  gal's  consent,  if  yer  kin,  and  slie 
won't  cost  yer  as  much  as  a  plug  o'  bacca." 

''Hooray  for  old  Missoura!"  shouts  a 
teamster. 

"  Come,  boys!  Let's  show  these  yeer 
greasers  a  Virgin ny  break  down.  '  Clar 
the  kitchen,  old  folks,  young  folks.*  " 

"  Go  it  hoe  and  toe !  '  Old  Yirginny  neber 
tire!'" 

''  Viva  el  gobernador  !  Viva  Armijo ! 
Viva!  viva!" 

An  arrival  at  this  moment  caused  a  sen- 
sation in  the  room.  A  stout,  fat,  priest- 
like man  entered,  accompanied  by  several 
others.  It  was  the  governor  and  his  suite, 
with  a  number  of  well-dressed  citizens,  who 
were  no  doubt  the  elite  of  New  Mexican 
society.  Some  of  the  new  comers  were 
militaires^  dressed  in  gaudy  and  foolish- 
looking  uniforms,  that  were  soon  seen  spin- 
ning around  the  room  in  the  mazes  of  the 
waltz. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  91 

"Where  is  the  Seiiora  Armijo?"  I  whis- 
pered to  St.  Vrain. 

"  I  told  you  as  much.  She — she  wont  be 
out.  Stay  here — I  am  going  for  a  short 
while.  Help  yourself  to  a  partner,  and  see 
some  fun.  I  will  be  back  presently.  Au 
revoir  f'' 

Without  any  further  explanation,  St. 
Vrain  squeezed  himself  through  the  crowd, 
and  disappeared. 

I  had  been  seated  on  the  banquette,  since 
entering  the  sala — St.  Vrain  beside  me — in 
a  retired  corner  of  the  room.  A  man  of 
peculiar  appearance  occupied  the  seat  next 
to  St.  Vrain,  but  farther  into  the  shadow  of 
a  piece  of  furniture.  I  had  noticed  this 
man  as  we  entered;  and  noticed  too  that  St. 
Vrain  spoke  to  him  ;  but  I  was  not  intro- 
duced; and  the  interposition  of  my  friend 
prevented  me  from  making  any  further  ob- 
servation of  him,  until  the  latter  had  retired. 
We  were  now  side   by  side;  and  I  com- 


92  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

menced  a  sort  of  angular  reconnoisance  of  a 
face  and  figure  that  had  somewhat  strangely 
arrested  my  attention.  He  was  not  an 
American — that  was  evident  from  his  dress 
— and  yet  the  face  was  not  Mexican.  Its 
outlines  were  too  bold  for  a  Spanish  face, 
though  the  complexion — from  tan  and  ex- 
posure— was  brown  and  swarth.  His  face 
was  clean  shaven,  except  the  chin,  that 
carried  a  pointed,  darkish  beard.  The 
eye — if  I  saw  it  aright  under  the  shadow  of 
a  slouched  brim — was  blue  and  mild ;  the 
hair  brown  and  wavy,  with  here  and  there 
a  strand  of  silver.  These  were  not  Spanish 
characteristics — much  less  Hispano- Ameri- 
can— and  I  should  have  at  once  placed  my 
neighbour  elsewhere,  but  that  his  dress 
puzzled  me.  It  was  purely  a  Mexican  cos- 
tume, and  consisted  of  a  purple  manga^  with 
dark  velvet  embroidery  around  the  vent 
and  along  the  borders.  As  this  garment 
covered  the  greater  part  of  his  person,  I 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  93 

could  only  see  that  underneath  was  a  pair 
of  green  velveteen  calzoneros,  with  yellow 
buttons,  and  snow-white  calzoncillos  puffing 
out  along  the  seams.  The  bottoms  of  the 
calzoneros  were  trimmed  with  stamped  black 
leather ;  and  under  these  were  yellow  boots, 
mth  a  heavy  steel  spur  upon  the  heel  of 
each.  The  broad  peaked  strap  that  confined 
the  spur,  passing  over  the  foot,  gave  to  it 
that  peculiar  contour  that  we  observe  in  the 
pictures  of  armed  knights  of  the  olden  time. 
He  wore  a  black  broad-brimmed  sombrero, 
girdled  by  a  thick  band  of  gold  bullion.  A 
pair  of  tags  of  the  same  material,  stuck 
out  from  the  sides — the  fashion  of  the 
country. 

The  man  kept  his  sombrero  slouched  to- 
ward the  light,  as  I  thought  or  suspected, 
for  the  concealment  of  his  face.  And  yet  it 
was  not  an  ill-favoured  one.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  open  and  pleasing — no  doubt 
had  been  handsome — before  time,  and  what- 


94  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

ever  caused  its  melancholy  expression,  had 
lined  and  clouded  it.  It  was  this  expression 
that  had  struck  me  on  first  seeing  the 
man. 

Whilst  I  was  making  these  observations 
— eyeing  him  crosswise  all  the  while — I 
discovered  that  he  was  eyeing  me  in  a  simi- 
lar manner ;  and  with  an  interest  apparently 
equal  to  my  own.  This  caused  us  to  face 
round  to  each  other ;  when  the  stranger 
drew  from  under  his  manga  a  small  beaded 
cigarerro  ;  and,  gracefully  holding  it  out  to 
me,  said — 

' '  Quiere  a  fumar  cavalier o  ?"  ( Would  you 
smoke,  sir  ?) 

"Thank  you — yes,"  I  replied  in  Spanish; 
at  the  same  time  taking  a  cigar  from  the 
case. 

We  had  hardly  lit  our  cigarettes,  when 
the  man  again  turned  to  me,  with  the  unex- 
pected question : — 

"  Will  you  sell  your  horse  ?" 


THE    SCALP-KL^'TERS.  95 

"  No." 

"Xot  for  a  good  price  ?" 

*'  Xot  for  any  price." 

"  I  Avould  give  you  five  hundred  dollars 
for  him." 

"  I  would  not  part  with  him  for  twice  the 
amount." 

"  I  will  give  twice  the  amount." 

"  I  have  become  attached  to  him — money 
is  no  object." 

"  I  am  sovTj  to  hear  it — /  have  come  two 
hundred  miles  to  buy  that  horse.'' 

I  looked  at  my  new  acquaintance  with 
astonishment,  involuntarily  repeating  his 
last  words. 

''  You  must  have  followed  us  from  the 
Arkansas,  then?" 

"  Xo,  I  came  from  the  Pdo  Abajo.'* 

"  The  Rio  Abajo !  You  mean  from  down 
the  Del  Norte?" 

''Yes." 

"  Then,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  a  mistake.  You 


96  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

think  you  are  talking  to  somebody  else,  and 
bidding  for  some  otber  horse." 

"  Oh,  no  !  He  is  yours.  A  black  stal- 
hon  with  red  nose,  and  long  full  tail — half- 
bred  Arabian  ?  There  is  a  small  mark  over 
the  left  eye?" 

This  was  certainly  the  description  of 
Moro ;  and  I  began  to  feel  a  sort  of  super- 
stitious awe  in  regard  to  my  mysterious 
neighbour. 

"  True,"  replied  I,  "  that  is  all  correct ; 
but  I  bought  that  stallion  many  months  ago 
from  a  Louisiana  planter.  If  you  have  just 
arrived  from  two  hundred  miles  down  the 
Eio  Grande,  how,  may  I  ask,  could  you  have 
kr  own  anything  about  me,  or  my  horse  ?  " 

"Dispensadme,  Caballero !  I  did  not  mean 
that.  I  came  from  below  to  meet  the  cara- 
van, for  the  purpose  of  buying  an  American 
horse.  Yours  is  the  only  one  in  the  caval- 
lada  I  would  buy;  and,  it  seems,  the  only 
one  that  is  not  for  sale !'' 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that ;  but  I  have  tested 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  97 

the  qualities  of  this  animal.  We  have  be- 
come friends.  No  common  motive  would 
induce  me  to  part  with  him." 

'^  Ah,  Senor!  it  is  not  a  common  motive, 
that  makes  me  so  eager  to  purchase  him. 
If  you  knew  that^  perhaps — "  he  hesitated  a 
moment — "but  no — no — no,"  and  after  mut- 
tering some  half- coherent  words,  among  which 
I  could  recognise,  the  '^  Buenas  noches, 
caballero ! "  the  stranger  rose  up  with  the 
same  mysterious  air,  that  had  all  along  char- 
acterized him ;  and  left  me.  I  could  hear  the 
tinkling  of  the  small  bell  upon  the  rowels  of 
his  spurs,  as  he  slowly  warped  himself 
through  the  gay  crowd,  and  disappeared 
into  the  night ! 

The  vacated  seat  was  soon  occupied  by  a 
dusky  "manola,"  whose  bright  nagua,  em- 
broidered chemisette,  brown  ankles,  and 
small  blue  slippers  drew  my  attention.  This 
was  all  I  could  see  of  her,  except  the  occa- 
sional flash  of  a  very  black  eye  through  the 

VOL.  L  F 


98  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

loophole  of  the  "rebozo  tapado."  By  de- 
grees, the  rebozo  became  more  generous — 
the  loophole  expanded — and  the  outlines  of  a 
very  pretty,  and  very  malicious,  little  face  were 
displayed  before  me.  The  end  of  the  scarf 
was  adroitly  removed  from  the  left  shoulder; 
and  a  nude  plump  arm,  ending  in  a  bunch  of 
small  jewelled  fingers,  hung  carelessly  down, 

I  am  tolerably  bashful ;  but,  at  the  sight 
of  this  tempting  partner,  I  could  "  hold  in" 
no  longer;  and  bending  towards  her,  I  said 
in  my  best  Spanish,  "Do  me  the  favour, 
Miss,  to  waltz  with  me  ?" 

The  wicked  little  manola  first  held  down 
her  head,  andblushed.  Then  raising  the  long 
fringes  of  her  eyes,  looked  up  again;  and 
with  a  voice,  as  sweet  as  that  of  a  canary-bird, 
replied : — 

"Con  gusto,  Seiior,"  (with  pleasure,  Sir). 

"  Nos  vamos !  "  cried  I,  elated  with  my 
triumph ;  and,  pairing  off  with  my  brilliant 
partner,  we  were  soon  whirling  about  in 
the  "mazy." 


THE   SCALP.HUNTERS.  99 

We  returned  to  our  seats  again  ;  and 
after  refreshing  with  a  glass  of  "  Albu- 
querque," a  sponge-cake,  and  a  "  husk " 
cigarette,  again  "  took  the  floor."  This 
pleasurable  programme  we  repeated  some 
half-dozen  times,  varying  the  dance,  only 
from  waltz  to  polka — for  my  manola  danced 
the  polka,  as  if  she  had  been  a  born  Bohe- 
mian. 

On  one  of  my  fingers  was  a  fifty  dollar  dia- 
mond ;  which  my  partner  seemed  to  think 
was  "  muy  buenito."  As  her  igneous  eyes 
softened  my  heart,  and  the  champagne  was 
producing  a  similar  effect  upon  my  head,  I 
began  to  speculate  on  the  propriety  of  trans- 
ferring the  diamond  from  the  smallest  of  my 
fingers  to  the  largest  of  hers ;  which  it  would, 
no  doubt,  have  fitted  exactly.  All  at  once,  I 
became  conscious  of  being  under  the  sur- 
veillance of  a  large,  and  very  fierce-looking 
lepero — a  regular  pelaclo — who  followed  us 
with  his  eyes,  and  sometimes  in  persona^  to 

f2 


100  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

every  part  of  the  room.  The  expression  of 
his  swarth  face  was  a  mixture  of  jealousy 
and  vengeance — which  my  partner  noticed, 
but  as  I  thought — took  no  pains  to  soften 
down. 

'*  Who  is  he?"  I  whispered,  as  the  man 
swung  past  us  in  his  chequered  serape. 

"  Esta  mi  marido,  Senor."  (It  is  my  hus- 
band, sir,)  was  the  cool  reply  ! 

I  pushed  the  ring  close  up  to  the  root  of 
my  finger,  shutting  my  hand  upon  it  as 
tight  as  a  vice. 

"  Yamos  a  tomar  otra  copita !  "  (Let  us 
take  another  glass  of  wine!)  said  I,  resolv- 
ing to  bid  my  pretty  "  poblana,"  as  soon 
as  possible,  a  good  night. 

The  Taos  whiskey  had  by  this  time  pro- 
duced its  effect  upon  the  dancers.  The 
trappers  and  teamsters  had  become  noisy 
and  riotous.  The  leperos — who  now  half 
filled  the  room — stimulated  by  wine,  jea- 
lousy, old  hates,   and  the  dance,  began  to 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  101 

look  more  savage  and  sulky.  The  fringed 
hunting- shirts,  and  brown  homespun  frocks 
found  favour  with  the  dark-eyed  "  maj as" 
of  Mexico — partly  out  of  a  respect  for —  and 
a  fear  of — courage,  which  is  often  at  the 
bottom  of  a  love  like  theirs. 

Although  the  trading  caravans  supplied 
almost  all  the  commerce  of  Santa  Fe,  and 
it  was  clearly  the  interest  of  its  inhabitants 
to  be  on  good  terms  with  the  traders,  the  two 
races — Anglo-American  and  Hispano- Indian 
— hated  each  other  thoroughly ;  and  that  hate 
was  now  displaying  itself,  on  one  side,  in  bully- 
ing contempt — on  the  other,  in  muttered 
"  carajos"  and  fierce  looks  of  vengeance. 

I  was  stiU  chatting  with  my  lively  part- 
ner. We  were  seated  on  the  banquette, 
where  I  had  introduced  myself.  On  look- 
ing casually  up,  a  bright  object  met  my 
eyes.  It  appeared  to  be  a  naked  knife  in 
the  hands  of  "  su  marido,"  who  was  just 
then  lowering  over  us  like  the  shadow  of  an 


102  THE   SCALP-HUNTEES. 

evil  spirit.  I  was  favoured  mth  only  a 
slight  glimpse  of  this  dangerous  meteor; 
and  had  made  up  my  mind  to  "  ware  steel," 
when  some  one  plucked  me  by  the  sleeve ; 
and  turning,  I  beheld  my  quondam  ac- 
quaintance of  the  purple  manga. 

''  Dispensadme,  Seiior,"  said  he,  nodding 
graciously,  '^  I  have  just  learned  that  the 
caravan  is  going  on  to  Chihuahua." 

"  True — there  is  no  market  here  for  our 
goods." 

*^  You  go  on  then  of  course  ?  " 

"  Certainly — I  must." 

"Will  you  return  this  way,  Senor  ?" 

"  It  is  very  likely — I  have  no  other  in- 
tention at  present." 

"  Perhaps — then^  you  might  be  willing  to 
part  with  your  horse  ? — You  will  find 
many  as  good  in  the  great  valley  of  the 
Mississippi." 

"  Neither  is  likely." 

"  But,  Seiior,  should  you  be  so  inclined, 
will  you  promise  me  the  refusal  of  him?" 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  103 

"  Oil !  that  I  will  promise  you  with  all 
my  heart." 

Our  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by 
a  huge,  gaunt,  half-drunken  Missourian,  who, 
trampling  rudely  upon  the  stranger's  toes, 
vociferated — 

"  Ye — up,  old  greaser  !  and  gi'  me  a  char." 

"  Y  porque?"  (and  why?)  demanded  the 
Mexican,  drawing  in  his  feet,  and  looking 
up  with  astonished  indignation. 

"  Porky  be  d — d !  I'm  tired  jumpin — I 
want  a  seat,  that's  it,  old  hos." 

There  was  something  so  bullying  and 
brutal  in  the  conduct  of  this  man,  that  I  felt 
called  upon  to  interfere, 

''Come!"  said  I,  addressing  him,  *'you 
have  no  right  to  deprive  this  gentleman  of 
his  seat — much  less  in  such  a  fashion." 

"  Eh,  Mister?  who  the  h — 11  asked  you  to 
open  yer  head?  Ye — up,  I  say !"  and,  at  the 
word,  he  seized  the  Mexican  by  the  corner 
of  his  manga,  as  if  to  drag  him  from  his 
seat 


104  THE    SCALP-HUNTEJIS. 

Before  I  had  time  to  reply  to  this  rude 
speech  and  gesture,  the  stranger  leaped 
to  his  feet ;  and,  with  a  well-planted  blow, 
felled  the  bully  upon  the  floor. 

This  seemed  to  act  as  a  signal  for  bringing 
several  other  quarrels  to  a  climax.  There 
was  a  rush  through  all  parts  of  the  Sala 
— drunken  shouts  mingled  with  yells 
of  vengeance — knives  glanced  from  their 
sheaths — women  screamed — pistols  flashed 
and  cracked,  filling  the  room  with  smoke 
and  dust.  The  lights  went  out — fierce 
strug^o^les  could  be  heard  in  the  darkness — 
the  fall  of  heavy  bodies  amidst  groans  and 
curses — and  for  five  minutes  these  were  the 
only  sounds. 

Having  no  cause  to  be  particularly  angry 
with  anybody,  I  stood  where  I  had  risen, 
without  using  either  knife  or  pistol — my 
frightened  '^  niaja"  all  the  while  holding  me 
by  the  hand.  A  painful  sensation  near  my 
left  shoulder  caused  me  suddenly  to  drop 


THE    SCALP- HUNTERS.  105 

my  partner ;  and,  with  that  unaccountable 
weakness  consequent  upon  the  reception 
of  a  wound,  I  felt  myself  staggering  toward 
the  banquette.  Here  I  dropped  into  a  sit- 
ting posture ;  and  remained  till  the  struggle 
was  over — conscious,  all  the  while,  that  a 
stream  of  blood  was  oozing  down  my  back, 
and  saturating  my  under  garments. 

I  sat  thus  till  the  struggle  had  ended.  A 
light  was  brought ;  and  I  could  distinguish 
a  number  of  men  in  hunting  shirts  moving 
to  and  fro  with  violent  gesticulations.  Some 
of  them  were  advocating  the  justice  of  the 
"  spree,'*  as  they  termed  it ;  while  others, 
the  more  respectable  of  the  traders,  were 
denouncing  it.  The  leper os^  with  the  women, 
had  all  disappeared;  and  I  could  perceive 
that  the  Americans  had  carried  the  day. 
Several  dark  objects  lay  along  the  floor — 
they  were  bodies  of  men  dead  or  dying! 
One  was  an  American — the  Missourian  who 
had  been  the  immediate  cause  of  the  fracas 

F  3 


106  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

— the  others  were  pelados.  I  could  see 
nothing  of  my  late  acquaintance.  My  fan- 
danguera,  too — con  su  marido — had  disap- 
peared; and,  on  glancing  at  my  left  hand, 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  so  also  had  my 
diamond  ring! 

"  St.  Vrain!  St.  Vrain!"  I  called,  seeing 
the  figure  of  my  friend  enter  at  the  door. 

"Where  are  you,  H.,  old  boy?  How  is 
it  with  you ;  all  right,  eh?  ^' 

"  Not  quite,  I  fear." 

"Good  God!  what's  this?  why,  you're 
stabbed  in  the  hump  ribs !  Not  bad,  I  hope. 
Off  with  your  shirt  and  let's  see." 

"  First,  let  us  to  my  room." 

"  Come  then,  my  dear  boy,  lean  on  me — 
so,  so." 

The  fandango  was  over. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  107 


CHAPTER     yill. 

SEGUIN,    THE    SCALP-HUNTER. 

I  HAVE  had  the  pleasure  of  being  wounded 
in  the  field  of  battle.  I  sslj  pleasure.  Under 
certain  circumstances,  wounds  are  luxuries. 
You  have  been  carried  on  a  "  stretcher"  to 
some  secure  spot.  An  aide-de-camp  drops 
from  his  sweating  horse ;  and  announces 
that  "  the  enemy  is  in  full  flight :"  thus  re- 
lieving you  from  the  apprehension  of  being 
transfixed  by  some  moustached  lancer — a 
friendly  surgeon  bends  over  you;  and,  after 
groping  awhile  about  your  wound,  tells  you 


108  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

it  is  '^  only  a  scratch,"  and  that  it  will  be 
well  in  a  week  or  two : — then  come  visions 
of  glory — the  glory  of  the  Gazette : — pre- 
sent pains  are  forgotten  in  the  contemplation 
of  future  triumphs — the  congratulations  of 
friends — the  smiles,  perchance,  of  one  dearer 
than  all.  Consoled  by  such  anticipations, 
you  lie  back  on  your  rude  couch,  smiling  at 
a  bullet  hole  through  your  thigh,  or  the 
slash  of  a  sabre  across  your  arm. 

I  have  had  these  emotions.  How  differ- 
ent were  the  feelings  I  experienced,  while 
smarting  under  wounds  that  came  by  the 
steel  of  the  assassin ! 

My  earliest  anxiety  was  about  the  "depth" 
of  my  wound.  Was  it  mortal?  This  is 
generally  the  first  question  a  man  puts  to 
himself,  after  discovering  that  he  has  been 
shot,  or  stabbed.  A  wounded  man  cannot 
always  answer  it  either.  One's  life-blood 
may  be  spurting  from  the  artery  at  each 
palpitation,  while  the  actual  pain  felt  is  not 
worth  the  pricking  of  a  pin. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  109 

On  reaching  the  Fonda,  I  sank  exliausted 
on  my  bed.  St.  Yrain  split  my  hunting 
shirt  from  cape  to  skirt;  and  commenced 
examining  my  wound.  I  could  not  see  my 
friend's  face,  as  he  stood  behind  me;  and  I 
waited  with  impatience. 

"Is  it  deep?"  I  asked. 

"  Not  deep  as  a  draw-well,  nor  wide  as  a 
wagon-track,"  was  the  reply.  "  You're 
quite  safe,  old  fellow;  thank  God,  and  not 
the  man  that  handled  that  knife — for  the 
fellow  plainly  intended  to  do  for  you.  It 
is  the  cut  of  a  Spanish  knife,  and  a  devilish 
gash  it  is.  By  the  Lord  !  Haller.  it  was  a 
close  shave.  One  inch  more,  and  the  spine, 
my  boy!  But  you're  safe,  I  say.  Here, 
Gode!  that  sponge?" 

''  Sacre^'^  muttered  Gode,  with  true  Gallic 
aspirate,  as  he  handed  the  wet  rag. 

I  felt  the  cold  application.  Then  a  bunch 
of  soft  raw  cotton — the  best  dressing  it 
could  have — was  laid  over  the  wound,  and 


110  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

fastened  by  strips.  The  most  skilful  sur- 
geon could  have  done  no  more. 

"  Close  as  a  clam,"  added  St.  Vrain,  as 
he  fastened  the  last  pin,  and  placed  me  in 
the  easiest  position.  "  But  what  started  the 
row  ?  and  how  came  you  to  cut  such  a  figure 
in  it?    I  was  out,  thank  God." 

"  Did  you  observe  a  strange-looking 
man ?" 

"•  What!   with  the  purple  manga?" 

"  Yes." 

"  He  sat  beside  us?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Ha!  No  wonder  you  say,  a  strange- 
looking  man — stranger  than  he  looks  too. 
I  saw  him,  I  know  him,  and  perhaps  not 
another  in  the  room  could  say  that — aye — 
there  was  another,"  continued  St.  Yrain, 
with  a  peculiar  smile;  '^but  what  could 
have  brought  him  there  is  that  which  puzzles 
me.  Armijo  could  not  have  seen  him — but 
— go  on." 


THE   SCALP-HUNTEES.  Ill 

I  related  to  St.  Yrain  the  whole  of  my 
conversation  with  the  stranger,  and  the 
incidents  that  had  led  to  the  breaking  up 
of  the  fandango. 

"  It  is  odd — ^very  odd.  What  the  deuce 
could  he  want  with  your  horse  ?  Two  hun- 
dred miles,  and  offers  a  thousand  dollars!" 

"  Enfant  de  Garce,  Capitaine."  (God6 
had  called  me  captain  ever  since  the  ride 
upon  the  buifalo),  "if  Monsieur  come 
two  hunred  mile,  and  vill  pay  un  mille 
thousan  dollar,  Pe  Gar,  he  Moro  like  ver — 
ver  moch.  Un  grand  passion  pour  le 
cheval.  Pourquois — vy  he  no  like  him 
ver  sheep?  vy  he  no  steal  'im? 

I  started  at  the  suggestion,  and  looked 
toward  St.  Yrain. 

"  Vith  permiss  of  le  capitaine,  I  vill 
le  cheval  cache,"  continued  the  Canadian, 
moving  toward  the  door. 

"You  need  not  trouble  yourself,  old 
Nor-west,    as  far    as    that    gentleman     is 


112  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

concerned.  He'll  not  steal  your  horse — 
though  that's  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  fulfil  your  intention,  and  cache  the 
animal.  There  are  thieves  enough  in 
Santa  Fe  to  steal  the  horses  of  a  whole 
regiment.  You  had  better  fasten  him  by 
the  door  here." 

Gode,  after  devoting  Santa  Fe  and  its 
inhabitants  to  a  much  warmer  climate 
than  Canada,  passed  to  the  door,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

"Who  is  he?"  I  asked,  "this  man, 
about  whom  there  seems  to  be  so  much 
that  is  mysterious  ?  " 

"  Ah !  if  you  knew.  I  will  tell  you 
some  queer  passages,  by-and-by,  but  not 
to-night.  You  have  no  need  of  excitement. 
That  is  the  famous  Seguin — the  Scalp- 
Hunter. 

"  The  Scalp-Hunter  !  " 

"  Aye !  you  have  heard  of  him,  no 
doubt ;  at  least  you  would,  had  you  been 
much  among  the  mountains." 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  113 

*'  I  have.  The  hellish  ruffian — the  whole- 
sale butcher  of  mnocent — " 

A  dark  waif  danced  against  the  wall.  It 
was  the  shadoAV  of  a  man.  I  looked  up. 
Seguin  was  before  me ! 

St.  Vrain,  on  seeing  him  enter,  had 
turned  away  ;  and  stood  looking  out  of  the 
window. 

I  was  on  the  point  of  changing  my  tirade 
into  the  apostrophic  fonn — and  at  the  same 
time  ordering  the  man  out  of  my  sight — 
when  something:  in  his  look  influenced  me 
to  remain  silent.  I  could  not  tell  whether 
he  had  heard,  or  understood  to  whom  my 
abusive  epithets  had  been  applied ;  but 
there  was  nothing  in  his  manner  that  be- 
trayed his  having  done  so.  I  observed 
only  the  same  look  that  had  at  first  at- 
tracted me — the  same  expression  of  deep 
melancholy. 

Could  this  man  be  the  hardened  and 
heartless  villain  I  had  heard  of  ?  the  author 
of  so  many  atrocities  ? 


114  THE   SCALP-HtlNTERS. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  seeing  that  I  remained 
silent,  "  I  deeply  regret  what  has  happened 
you.  I  was  the  involuntary  cause  of  your 
mishap.     Is  your  wound  a  severe  one?" 

"  It  is  not,"  I  replied,  with  a  dryness  of 
manner  that  seemed  somewhat  to  discom- 
pose him. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  he  continued,  after 
a  pause.  "  I  came  to  thank  you  for  your 
generous  interference.  I  leave  Santa  Fe  in 
ten  minutes.    I  must  bid  you  farewell." 

He  held  forth  his  hand.  I  muttered  the 
word  "  farewell,"  but  without  offering  to  ex- 
change the  salutation.  The  stories  of  cruel 
atrocity,  connected  with  the  name  of  this 
man,  came  into  my  mind  at  the  moment ; 
and  I  felt  a  loathing  for  him.  His  arm 
remained  in  its  outstretched  position,  while 
a  strange  expression  began  to  steal  over 
his  countenance,  as  he  saw  that  I  hesitated. 

"  I  cannot  take  your  hand,"  I  said  at  length. 

"  And  why?"  he  asked,  in  a  mild  tone. 


'  THE    SCALP-HITN^TERS.  115 

"Why!  it  is  red — red;  away,  sir,  away!" 

He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  with  a  sorrow- 
ful look.  There  was  not  a  spark  of  anger 
in  them.  He  drew  his  hand  within  the 
folds  of  his  manga ;  and,  uttering  a  deep  sigh, 
turned  and  walked  slowly  out  of  the  room. 

St.  Vrain,  who  had  wheeled  round  at 
the  close  of  this  scene,  strode  forward 
to  the  door,  and  stood  looking  after  him. 
I  could  see  the  Mexican,  from  where  I 
lay,  as  he  crossed  the  quadrangular  patio. 
He  had  shrugged  himself  closely  in  his 
manga ;  and  was  moving  off  in  an  attitude 
that  betokened  the  deepest  dejection.  In  a 
moment  he  was  out  of  sight — having  passed 
through  the  saguan^  and  into  the  street. 

*'  There  is  something  truly  mysterious 
about  that  man.     Tell  me,  St.  Vrain " 

"  Hush-sh!  look  yonder!"  interrupted  my 
friend,  pointing  through  the  open  door. 

I  looked  out  into  the  moonlight.  Three 
human  forms  were  moving  along  the  wall,  to- 


116  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

ward  the  entrance  of  the  patio.  Their  height, 
their  peculiar  attitudes,  and  the  stealthy- 
silence  of  their  steps,  convinced  me  they 
were  Indians.  The  next  moment  they  were 
lost  under  the  dark  shadows  of  the  saguan. 

"  Who  are  they?"  I  inquired. 

**  Worse  enemies  to  poor  Seguin  than  you 
would  be,  if  you  knew  him  better.  I  pity 
him,  if  those  hungry  hawks  overtake  him  in 
the  dark.  But  no;  he's  worth  warning, 
and  a  hand  to  help  him,  if  need  be.  He 
shall  have  it.  Keep  cool,  Harry.  I  will  be 
back  in  a  jiffy." 

So  saying,  St.  Yrain  left  me  ;  and,  the 
moment  after,  I  could  see  his  light  form 
passing  hastily  out  of  the  gate ! 

I  lay,  reflecting  on  the  strangeness  of  the 
incidents  that  seemed  to  be  occurring  around 
me.  I  was  not  without  some  painful  reflec- 
tions. I  had  wounded  the  feelings  of  one, 
who  had  not  injured  me,  and  for  whom  my 
friend  evidently  entertained  a  high  respect. 


THE    SCALP- HUlsTERS.  117 

A  shod  hoof  sounded  upon  the  stones  out- 
side ;  it  was  Gode  with  my  horse ;  and,  the 
next  moment,  I  heard  him  hammering  the 
picket-pin  into  the  pavement. 

Shortly  after,  St.  Yrain  himself  returned. 

"  Well,"  I  inquired,  "  what  happened 
you?" 

"  Nothing  much.  That's  a  weasel  that 
never  sleeps.  He  had  mounted  his  horse 
before  they  came  up  with  him;  and  was  very 
soon  out  of  their  reach." 

"  But  may  they  not  follow  him  on  horse- 
back?" 

"  That  is  not  likely.  He  has  comrades 
not  far  from  here,  I  warrant  you.  Armijo 
— and  it  was  he  sent  those  villains  on  his 
track — has  no  force  that  dare  follow  him 
when  he  gets  upon  the  wild  hills.  No  fear 
for  him,  once  he  has  cleared  the  houses.'^ 

"  But,  my  dear  St.  Vrain,  tell  me  what 
you  know  of  this  singular  man.  I  am 
wound  up  to  a  pitch  of  curiosity." 


118  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  Not  to-night,  Harry  ;  not  to-night.  I  do 
not  wish  to  cause  you  further  excitement  ; 
besides  I  have  reason  to  leave  you  now.  To- 
morrow, then.     Good  night!  good  night!'' 

And  so  saying,  my  mercurial  friend  left 
me  to  Gode,  and  a  night  of  restlessness. 


I 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  119 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LEFT   BEHIND. 


On  the  third  day  after  the  fandango,  it  is 
announced  that  the  caravan  will  move 
onward  to  Chihuahua. 

The  day  arrives,  and  I  am  unable  to 
travel  with  it.  My  surgeon, — a  wretched 
leech  of  a  Mexican, — assures  me,  that  it 
will  be  certain  death  to  attempt  the  journey. 
For  want  of  any  opposing  evidence,  I  am 
constrained  to  believe  him.  I  have  no  alter- 
native, but  adopt  the  joyless  resolve  to 
remain  in  Santa  Fe,  until  the  return  of  the 
traders. 


120  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

Chafing  on  a  feverish  bed,  I  take  leave  of 
my  late  companions.  We  part  with  many 
regrets;  but  above  all,  I  am  pained  at 
bidding  adieu  to  St.  Yrain,  whose  light- 
hearted  companionship  has  been  my  solace 
through  three  days  of  suffering.  He  has 
proved  my  friend;  and  has  undertaken  to 
take  charge  of  my  wagons,  and  dispose  of 
my  goods  in  the  market  of  Chihuahua. 

"  Do  not  fret,  man,"  says  he,  taking  leave. 
"Kill  time  with  the  champagne  of  El  Paso. 
We  will  be  back  in  a  squirrel' s  j  ump ;  and  trust 
me,  I  will  bring  you  a  mule-load  of  Mexican 
shiners.     God  bless  you — good  bye  1' 

I  can  sit  up  in  my  bed;  and  from  the 
open  window,  see  the  white  tilts  of  the 
wagons,  as  the  train  rolls  over  a  neigh- 
bouring hill.  I  hear  the  cracking  whipSj 
and  the  deep-toned  "  wo-ha"  of  the  teamsters 
— I  see  the  traders  mount  and  gallop  after ; 
and  I  turn  upon  my  couch  with  a  feeling 
of  loneliness  and  desertion. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  121 

For  days  I  lie  tossing  and  fretting,  despite 
the  consolotary  influence  of  the  champagne ; 
and  the  rude  but  kindly  attentions  of  ray 
voyageur  valet. 

I  rise  at  length — dress  myself — and  sit  in 
my  "  ventana."  I  have  a  good  view  of  the 
piazza,  and  the  adjacent  streets,  with  their 
rows  of  brown  adobe  houses,  and  dusty  ways 
between. 

I  gaze,  hour  after  hour,  on  what  is  passing 
without.  The  scene  is  not  -without  novelty, 
as  well  as  variety.  Swarthy  ill-favoured 
faces  appear  behind  the  folds  of  dingy  re- 
bozos.  Fierce  glances  lower  under  the  slouch 
of  broad  sombreros.  Poblanas  with  short 
skirts,  and  slippered  feet,  pass  my  window  ; 
and  groups  of  "tame"  Indians, — Pueblos — 
crowd  in  from  the  neighbouring  rancherias, 
belabouring  their  donkeys  as  they  go.  These 
bring  baskets  of  fruit  and  vegetables.  They 
squat  down  upon  the  dusty  piazza,  behind 
piles  of  prickly  pears,  or  pyramids  of  toma- 

VOL.  I.  G 


122  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

toes  and  chile.  The  women — light-hearted 
huxters — laugh  and  sing,  and  chatter  con- 
tinuously. The  tortillera^  kneeling  by  her 
metate\  bruises  the  boiled  maize:  claps  it 
into  thin  cakes,  flings  it  on  the  heated  stone, 
and  then  cries  "  tortillas  I  tortillas  calientesP' 
The  Cocinera  stirs  the  peppery  stew  of  chile 
Colorado — lifts  the  red  liquid  in  her  wooden 
ladle ;  and  invites  her  customers  by  the  ex- 
pressions '''' Chile  hueno!  excellenteP'  "  Carbon! 
carbon  /"  cries  the  charcoal-burner.  "  Agua  / 
agua  limpia  /"  shouts  the  aguadore.  ''  Fan 
jino — pan  bianco  /"  screams  the  baker;  and 
other  cries — ^from  the  venders  ofatole,  huevos, 
and  leche, — are  uttered  in  shrill  discordant 
voices.  Such  are  the  voices  of  a  Mexican 
^'  piazza." 

They  are  at  first  interesting.  They 
become  monotonous, — then  disagreeable ; 
until  at  length  I  am  tortured ;  and  listen  to 
them  with  a  feverish  excitement. 

After  a  few  days,  I  was  able  to  walk,— and 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  123 

went  out  with  my  faithful  Gode.  We  strolled 
through  the  town  It  reminded  me  of  an 
extensive  brick-field,  before  the  kilns  have 
been  set  on  fire. 

We  encountered  the  same  brown  adobes 
everywhere  —  the  same  villanous-looking 
leperos  lounging  at  the  corners, — the 
same  bare-legged  slippered  wenches — the 
same  strings  of  belaboured  donkeys, — the 
same  shrill  and  detestable  cries. 

We  passed  by  a  ruinous-looking  house 
in  a  remote  quarter.  Our  ears  were 
saluted  by  voices  from  within.  We  heard 
shouts  of  ''  Mueran  los  Yankees!  Abajo  los 
Americanos  P^  No  doubt  the  pelado — to 
whom  I  was  indebted  for  my  wound — was 
among  the  rufiians  who  crowded  into  th^ 
windows  ;  but  I  knew  the  lawlessness  of  the 
place  too  well,  to  apply  for  justice. 

We  heard  the  same  shouts  in  another  street, 
— again  in  the  piazza  ;  and  Gode  and  I  re- 
entered the  Fonda,  with  a  conviction,  that 

g2 


124  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

our  appearaance  in  public  might  be  attended 
with  danger.  We  resolved  therefore  to 
keep  within  doors. 

In  all  my  life  I  never  suffered  ennui,  as 
when  cooped  up  in  this  semi-barbarous 
town;  and  almost  confined  within  the 
walls  of  its  filthy  fonda.  I  felt  it  the  more 
that  I  had  so  lately  enjoyed  the  company 
of  such  free  jovial  spirits,  and  I  could 
fancy  them  in  their  bivouacs  on  the  banks 
of  the  Del  Norte,  carousing,  laughing, 
or  listening  to  some  wild  mountain 
story. 

Gode 'shared 'my  feelings  ;  and  became  as 
desponding  as  myself.  The  light  humour 
of  the  voyageur  disappeared.  The  song  of 
the  Canadian  boatman  was  heard  no  longer; 
but,  in  its  place,  the  "  sacre,"  the  "  Enfant  de 
garce,"  and  the  English  "  God-dam,"  were 
sputtered  plentifully,  and  hurled  at  every- 
thing Mexican.  I  resolved  at  length  to 
put  an  end  to  our  sufferings. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  125 

"This  life  wiU  never  do,  Gode,"  said  I 
addressing  my  compagnon. 

'^  Ah !  Monsieur,  nevare  !  nevare  it  will 
do.  Ah  !  ver  doll.  It  is  like  von  assemblee 
of  le  dam  Quaker." 

*^I  am  determined  to  endure  it  no  longer.'^ 

"But  what  can  Monsieur  do?"  How, 
Capitaine?" 

"  By  leaving  this  accursed  place ;  and 
that  to-morrow." 

"  But  is  Monsieur  fort — strongs  beaucoup 
strongs  to  ride?" 

"  I  will  risk  it,  Gode.  If  I  break  down, 
there  are  other  towns  on  the  river,  where 
we  can  halt.     Anywhere  better  than  here." 

"  C'est  vrai,  Capitaine.  Beautiful  village 
down  the  river.  Albuquerque — Tome — ver 
many  village.  Mon  Dieu ! — all  better.  Santa 
Fe  is  one  camp  of  dam  thief.  Ver  good  for 
us  go,  Monsieur  ;  ver  good." 

"  Good  or  not,  Gode,  I  am  going.  So 
make  your  preparations  to-night,  for  I  will 
leave  in  the  morning  before  sunrise." 


126  THE    SCALP-HUNTEHS. 

"  Dieu  merci !  It  vill  be  von  grand 
plaisir  to  makes  ready."  And  the  Canadian 
ran  from  the  room,  snapping  his  fingers 
with  delight. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  Santa  Fe 
at  any  rate.  Should  my  strength — yet  but 
half  restored — hold  out,  I  would  follow,  and 
if  possible,  overtake  the  caravan.  I  knew 
it  could  make  but  short  journeys  over  the 
deep  sand  roads  of  the  Del  Norte.  Should 
I  not  succeed  in  coming  up  with  it,  I  could 
halt  in  Albuquerque  or  El  Paso — either  of 
which  would  offer  me  a  residence,  at  least 
as  agreeable  as  the  one  I  was  leaving. 

My  surgeon  endeavoured  to  dissuade  me 
from  setting  out.  He  represented  that  I 
was  in  a  most  critical  condition.  My  wound 
far  from  being  cicatrized.  He  set  forth  in 
most  eloquent  terms  the  dangers  of  fever,  of 
gangrene,  of  hemorrhage.  He  saw  I  was 
obstinate,  and  concluded  his  monitions,  by 
presenting  his  bill.     It   amounted   to  the 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  127 

modest  sum  of  1 00  dollars !  It  was  an  ex- 
tortion. What  could  I  do  ?  I  stormed  and 
protested.  The  Mexican  threatened  me 
with  "  governor's  "  justice.  Gode  swore  in 
French,  Spanish,  English,  and  Indian.  It 
was  all  to  no  purpose.  I  saw  that  the  bill 
would  have  to  be  paid;  and  I  paid  it — though 
with  indifferent  grace. 

The  leech  disappeared,  and  the  landlord 
came  next.  He,  like  the  former,  made  earnest 
entreaty  to  prevent  me  from  setting  forth. 
He  offered  a  variety  of  reasons  to  detain  me. 

"  Do  not  go ;  for  your  life,  Senor,  do  not." 

"  And  why,  good  Jose  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  0,  Seiior ;  los  Indios  bravos — los  Nava- 
joes  !  carrambo  !  " 

"  But  I  am  not  going  into  the  Indian 
country.  I  travel  down  the  river — through 
the  towns  of  New  Mexico." 

"  Ah !  Seiior,  the  towns — no  hay  seguri- 
dad.  No — no — there  is  safety  nowhere 
from  the   Navajo.      Hay  novedades — news 


128  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

this  very  day.  Polvidera — pobre  Polvidera ! 
It  was  attacked  on  Sunday  last.  On  Sunday, 
Seiior,  when  they  were  all  en  la  misa.  Pues, 
Seiior,  the  robbers  surrounded  the  church ; 
and  oh,  Carrambo!  they  dragged  out  the 
poor  people — men,  women  and  children  ! 
Pues,  Seiior;  they  killed  the  men — and  the 
women — Dios  de  mi  alma!  " 

'^  Well,  and  the  women?" 

"0,  Seiior  ;  they  are  all  gone — they  were 
carried  to  the  mountains  by  the  savages. 
Pol3res  mugeres ! " 

"It  is  a  sad  story  truly  ;  but  the  Indians, 
I  understand,  only  make  these  forays  at  long 
intervals.  I  am  not  likely  to  meet  with 
them  now.  At  all  events,  Jose,  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  run  the  risk." 

"  But  Seiior,"  continued  Jose,  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  confidential  tone,  "  there  are 
other  ladrones  besides  the  Indians — white 
ones — muchos — muchissirnos !  Aye,  indeed, 
mi  arao,  white  robbers — ^blancos— blancos  y 
muy  feos — carrai ! " 


THE   SCALP-HUNTEKS.  129 

And  Jose  closed  his  fingers  as  if  clutclaing 
some  imaginary  object. 

This  appeal  to  my  fears  was  in  vain.  I 
answered  it  by  pointing  to  my  revolvers  and 
rifle  ;  and  to  the  well-filled  belt  of  my 
henchman  Gode. 

When  the  Mexican  boniface  saw  that  I 
was  determined  to  rob  him  of  all  the  guests 
he  had  in  his  house,  he  retired  sullenly ; 
and  shortly  after  returned  with  his  bill. 
Like  that  of  the  "medico,"  it  was  out 
of  all  proportion  ;  but  I  could  not  help 
myself;  and  paid  it. 

By  grey  da^vn  I  was  in  my  saddle ;  and, 
followed  by  God^  and  a  couple  of  heavily 
packed  mules,  I  rode  out  of  the  ill-favoured 
town;  and  took  the  road  for  the  "  Kio 
Abajo." 


g3 


130  THE   SCALP-HUNTERSe 


CHAPTER   X, 


THE   DEL   NOETE. 


Fob  days  we  journey  down  the  Del  Norte. 
We  pass  through  numerous  villages,  many 
of  them  types  of  Santa  Fe.  We  cross  the 
zequias  and  irrigating  canals;  and  pass  along 
fields  of  bright  green  maize  plants.  We 
see  vineyards  and  grand  haciendas.  These 
appear  richer  and  more  prosperous,  as  we 
approach  the  southern  part  of  the  province 
— the  Rio  Abajo. 

In  the  distance,  both  east  and  west,  we 
descry  dark  mountains  rolled  up  against 
the  sky.      These  are  the  twin  ranges  of 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS  131 

the  Rocky  Mountains.  Long  spurs  trend 
toward  the  river,  and  in  places  appear  to 
close  up  the  valley.  They  add  to  the  ex- 
pression of  many  a  beautiful  landscape,  that 
opens  before  us  as  we  move  onward. 

We  see  picturesque  costumes  in  the  vil- 
lages, and  along  the  highways.  Men  dressed 
in  the  checquered  serape  or  the  striped 
blanket  of  the  Navajoes ;  conical  sombreros 
with  broad  brims  ;  calzoneros  of  velveteen, 
with  their  rows  of  shining  castle-tops,  and 
fastened  at  the  waist  by  the  jaunty  sash. 
We  see  mangas  and  tilmas,  and  men  wearing 
the  sandal  as  in  Eastern  lands.  On  the 
women  we  observe  the  graceful  rebozo, 
the  short  nagua,  and  the  embroidered 
chemisette. 

We  see  rude  implements  of  husbandry: 
the  creaking  carreta,  with  its  block  wheels ; 
the  primitive  plough  of  the  forking  tree- 
branch,  scarcely  scoring  the  soil ;  the  horn- 
yoked  oxen ;  the  goad ;  the  clumsy  hoe,  in 


132  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  hands  of  the  peon  serf, — these  are  all 
objects  that  are  new  and  curious  to  bur 
eyes  ;  and  that  indicate  the  lowest  order  of 
agricultural  knowledge. 

Along  the  roads  we  meet  numerous  atajos, 
in  charge  of  their  arrieros.  We  observe  the 
mules,  small,  smooth,  light-limbed,  and  vi- 
cious. We  glance  at  the  heavy  alparejas 
and  bright  worsted  apishamores.  We  notice 
the  tight  wiry  mustangs,  ridden  by  the 
arrieros ;  the  high-peaked  saddles  and  hair 
bridles ;  the  swarth  faces  and  pointed  beards 
of  the  riders ;  the  huge  spurs,  that  tinkle  at 
every  step ;  the  exclamations,  "  Hola!  mula! 
mula!  malraya!  vaya!"^we  notice  all  these; 
and  they  tell  us  we  are  journeying  in  the 
land  of  the  Spano-American. 

Under  other  circumstances,  these  objects 
would  have  interested  me.  At  that  time, 
they  appeared  to  me  like  the  pictures  of  a 
panorama,  or  the  changing  scenes  of  a  con- 
tinuous dream.     As  such,  have  they  left 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  133 

their  impressions  on  ray  memory.     I  was 
under  the  incipient  delirium  of  fever. 

It  was  yet  only  incipient ;  nevertheless, 
it  distorted  the  images  around  me,  and  ren- 
dered their  impressions  unnatural  and  wea- 
risome. My  wound  began  to  pain  me  afresh ; 
and  the  hot  sun,  and  the  dust,  and  the  thirst 
with  the  miserable  accommodations  of  Kew 
Mexican  posadas — vexed  me  to  an  excess  of 
endurance. 

On  the  fifth  day,  after  leaving  Santa  Fe, 
we  entered  the  wretched  little  '^pueblo"  of 
Parida.  It  was  my  intention  to  have  re- 
mained there  all  night ;  but  it  proved  a  ruf- 
fian sort  of  place,  with  meagre  chances  of 
comfort;  and  I  moved  onto  Socorro.  This 
is  the  last  inhabited  spot  in  New  Mexico,  as 
you  approach  the  terrible  desert — the  Jor- 
nada del  Muerte. 

Gode  had  never  made  the  journey  ; 
and  at  Parida  I  had  obtained  one  thing 
that  we  stood  in  need  of — a  guide.     He 


134  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

had  volunteered;  and  as  I  learnt  that  it 
would  be  no  easy  task  to  procure  one  at 
Socorro,  I  was  fain  to  take  him  along.  He 
was  a  coarse,  shaggy -looking  customer ;  and 
I  did  not  at  all  like  his  appearance ;  but  I 
found,  on  reaching  Socorro,  that  what  I 
had  heard  was  correct.  Xo  guide  could  be 
hired  on  any  terms — so  great  was  their 
dread  of  the  Jornada,  and  its  occasional 
denizens,  the  Apaches. 

Socorro  was  alive  with  Indian  rumours — 
novedades.  The  Indians  had  fallen  upon  an 
atajonear  the  crossing  of  Fra  Cristobal;  and 
murdered  the  arrieros  to  a  man.  The  vil- 
lage was  full  of  consternation  at  the  news. 
The  people  dreaded  an  attack  ;  and  thought 
me  mad,  when  I  made  known  my  intention 
of  crossing  the  Jornada. 

I  began  to  fear  they  would  frighten  my 
guide  from  his  engagement ;  but  the  fellow 
stood  out  staunchly,  still  expressing  his 
willingness  to  accompany  lis. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  135 

Without  the  prospect  of  meeting  the 
Apache  savages,  I  was  but  ill  prepared  for 
the  Jornada.  The  pain  of  my  wound  had  in- 
creased ;  and  I  was  fatigued,  and  burning 
with  fever. 

But  the  caravan  had  passed  through 
Socorro  only  three  days  before ;  and  I  was 
in  hopes  of  overtaking  my  old  companions 
before  they  could  leave  £1  Paso.  This 
determined  me  to  proceed  in  the  morning ; 
and  I  made  arrangements  for  an  early 
start. 

Gode  and  I  were  awake  before  dawn. 
My  attendant  went  out  to  summon  the 
guide,  and  saddle  our  animals.  I  remained 
in  the  house  making  preparations  for  a  cup 
of  coffee  before  starting.  I  was  assisted  by 
the  landlord  of  the  posada,  who  had  arisen ; 
and  was  stalking  about  in  his  serape. 

While  thus  engaged,  I  was  startled  by  the 
voice  of  Gode  calling  from  without,  "  Mon 
maitre!  mon  maitre!  the  dam  rascal  have 
him  run  vay ! " 


J  36  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Who  has  run 
away  ?" 

"0  Monsieur!  le  dam  Mexicane,  vith 
vou  mule,  has  robb,  and  run  vay,  Allons, 
Monsieur,  allons!*^ 

I  followed  the  Canadian  to  the  stable  with 
a  feeling  of  anxiety.  My  horse — but  no — 
thank  heaven,  he  was  there!  One  of  the 
mules — the  macho — was  gone.  It  was 
the  one  which  the  guide  had  ridden  from 
Parida. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  not  off  yet,"  I  suggested. 
"  He  may  still  be  in  the  town." 

We  sent  and  went  in  all  directions  to  find 
him ;  but  to  no  purpose.  We  were  relieved 
at  length  from  all  doubts  by  the  arrival  of 
some  early  market  men,  who  had  met  such 
a  man  as  our  guide  far  up  the  river,  and 
riding  a  mule  at  full  gallop. 

What  should  we  do?  Follow  him  to 
Parida  ?  No  ;  that  would  be  a  journey  for 
nothing.      I  knew  that  he  would  not    be 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  137 

fool  enough  to  go  that  way.  Even  if  he 
did,  it  would  have  been  a  fool's  errand  to  seek 
for  justice  there ;  so  I  determined  on  leaving 
it  over,  until  the  return  of  the  traders  would 
enable  me  to  find  the  thief,  and  demand  his 
punishment  from  the  authorities. 

My  regrets  at  the  loss  of  my  macho  were 
not  unmixed  with  a  sort  of  gratitude  to  the 
fellow,  when  I  laid  my  hand  upon  the  nose 
of  my  whimpering  charger.  What  hindered 
him  from  taking  the  horse  instead  of  the 
mule  ?  It  is  a  question  I  have  never  been 
able  to  answer  to  this  day.  I  can  only 
account  for  the  fellow's  preference  for  the 
mule  on  the  score  of  downright  honesty,  or 
the  most  perverse  stupidity. 

I  made  overtures  for  another  guide.     I 
applied  to  the  boniface  of  Socorro,  but  with- 
out success.     He  knew  no  "  mozo  "  who 
would  undertake  the  journey. 

''Los  Apaches — los  Apaches!" 

I  appealed  to  the  peons  and  loiterers  of 
the  piazza. 


138  THE   SCALP-HUNTEHS. 

"Los  Apaches!" 

Wherever  I  went,  I  was  answered  with, 
"  Los  Apaches,"  and  a  shake  of  the  fore- 
finger before  the  nose — a  negative  sign  over 
all  Mexico. 

"  It  is  plain,  Gode,  we  can  get  no  guide. 
We  must  try  this  Jornada  without  one. 
What  say  you,  voyageur  ?" 

"  I  am  agree,  mon  maitre — allons  ! " 

And,  followed  by  my  faithful  compagnon^ 
with  our  remaining  pack-mule,  I  took  the 
road  that  leads  to  the  desert.  That  night 
we  slept  among  the  ruins  of  Yalverde ;  and 
the  next  morning,  after  an  early  start,  em- 
barked upon  the  "Journey  of  Death." 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  139 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    "journey    of   DEATH." 


In  two  hours  we  reach  the  crossing  at 
Fra  Cristobal.  Here  the  road  parts  from 
the  river,  and  strikes  into  the  waterless 
desert.  We  plunge  through  the  shallow 
ford,  coming  out  on  the  eastern  bank.  We 
fill  our  "  xuages."  with  care,  and  give  our 
animals  as  much  as  they  will  drink.  After 
a  short  halt  to  refresh  ourselves,  we  ride 
onward. 

We  have  not  travelled  far,  before  we  re- 
cognise the  appropriate  name  of  this  terrible 
journey.     Scattered  along  the  path  we  see 


140  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  bones  of  many  animals.  There  are  human 
bones  too  !  That  white  spheroidal  mass, 
with  its  grinning  rows  and  serrated  sutures 
— that  is  a  human  skull.  It  lies  beside  the 
skeleton  of  a  horse.  Horse  and  rider  have 
fallen  together.  The  wolves  have  stripped 
them  at  the  same  time.  They  have  dropped 
down  on  their  thirsty  track,  and  perished  in 
despair,  although  water — had  they  known 
it — was  within  reach  of  another  effort ! 

We  see  the  skeleton  of  a  mule,  with  the 
alpareja  still  buckled  around  it,  and  an  old 
blanket,  flapped  and  tossed  by  many  a 
whistling  wind. 

Other  objects,  that  have  been  brought  there 
by  human  aid,  strike  the  eye  as  we  proceed. 
A  bruised  canteen — the  fragments  of  a  glass 
bottle — an  old  hat — a  piece  of  saddle-cloth 
— a  stirrup,  red  with  rust — a  broken  strap — 
with  many  like  symbols,  are  strewed  along 
our  path,  speaking  a  melancholy  language. 

We  are  still  only  on  the  border  of  the 
desert.     We  are  fresh.     How,  when  we  have 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  141 

travelled  over  and  neared  the  opposite  side  ? 
Shall  we  leave  such  souvenirs  ? 

We  are  filled  with  painful  forebodings, 
as  we  look  across  the  arid  waste  that 
stretches  indefinitely  before  us.  We  do  not 
dread  the  Apache.  Nature  herself  is  the 
enemy  we  fear. 

Taking  the  wagon  tracks  for  our  guide,  we 
creep  on.  We  grow  silent,  as  if  we  were 
dumb.  The  mountains  of  Cristobal  sink 
behind  us;  and  we  are  almost  "out  of  sight 
of  land."  We  can  see  the  ridges  of  the 
Sierra  Blanca  away  to  the  eastward ;  but 
before  us — to  the  south — the  eye  encounters 
no  mark  or  limit. 

The  sun  grows  hotter  and  hotter.  I  knew 
this  would  be  the  case,  when  we  started.  It 
was  one  of  those  cool  mornings,  with  fog  on 
the  river  and  in  the  air.  In  all  my  wander- 
ings, through  many  climes,  I  have  observed 
such  mornings  to  be  the  harbingers  of  sultry 
hours  at  noon. 


142  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

The  sun  is  climbing  upward,  and  every 
moment  his  rays  become  fiercer  and  more 
fervid.  There  is  a  strong  wind  blowing  ; 
but  it  does  not  fan  us  into  coolness.  On 
the  contrary,  it  lifts  the  burning  crystals, 
and  spits  them  painfully  in  our  faces ! 

The  sun  has  climbed  to  the  zenith.  We 
toil  on  through  the  yielding  sand.  For  miles 
we  see  no  traces  of  vegetation.  The  wagon 
tracks  guide  us  no  longer.  The  drift  has 
obscured  them ! 

We  enter  a  plain  covered  with  artemisia, 
and  clumps  of  the  hideous  greasewood. 

The  warped  and  twisted  branches  impede 
our  progress.  For  hours  we  ride  through 
thickets  of  the  bitter  sage  ;  and  at  length 
enter  another  region,  sandy  and  rolling. 
Long  arid  spurs  shoot  down  from  the 
mountains  ;  and  decline  into  ridges  of  dry 
drifting  sand.  Now  not  even  the  silvery 
leaf  of  the  artemisia  cheers  our  path.  Before 
us,  we  see  nothing  but  barren  yellow  waste 
— trackless  and  treeless ! 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  143 

A  tropical  sun  glances  up  from  the  bril- 
liant surface  ;  and  we  are  almost  blinded  by 
the  refracted  rays.  The  wind  blows  more 
lightly  ;  and  clouds  of  dust  load  the  air, 
sweeping  slowly  along! 

We  push  forward  -svithout  guide  or  any 
object  to  indicate  our  course.  We  are  soon 
in  the  midst  of  bewilderment.  A  scene  of 
seeming  enchantment  springs  up  around  us. 
Vast  towers  of  sand — borne  up  by  the 
whirl-blast  —  rise  vertically  to  the  sky. 
They  move  to  and  fro  over  the  plain.  They 
are  yellow  and  luminous.  The  sun  glistens 
among  their  floating  crystals.  They  move 
slowly,  but  they  are  approaching  us  ! 

I  behold  them  with  feelings  of  awe.  I 
have  heard  of  travellers  lifted  in  their  whirl- 
ing vortex,  and  dashed  back  again  from  fear- 
ful heights! 

The  pack  mule — frightened  at  the  pheno- 
menon— breaks  the  lasso,  and  scampers 
away  among  the  ridges.  Gode  has  galloped 
in  pursuit.     I  am  alone ! 


144  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

Nine  or  ten  gigantic  columns  now  appear, 
and  stalk  over  the  plain,  circling  gradually 
around  me  !  There  is  something  unearthly 
in  the  appearance.  They  resemble  creatures 
of  a  phantom  world.  They  seem  endowed 
with  demon  life ! 

Two  of  them  approach  each  other.  There 
is  a  short  gusty  struggle,  that  ends  in  their 
mutual  destruction.  The  sand  is  preci- 
pitated to  the  earth  ;  and  the  dust  floats  off 
in  dun  shapeless  masses. 

Several  have  shut  me  within  a  space,  and 
are  slowly  closing.  My  dog  howls  and  barks. 
My  horse  cowers  with  affright,  and  shivers 
between  my  thighs,  uttering  terrified  ex- 
pressions ! 

I  am  irresolute.  I  sit  in  my  saddle  wait- 
ing the  result,  with  an  indescribable  feeling. 
My  ears  are  filled  with  a  buzzing  sound,  like 
the  hum  of  machinery.  My  eyes  distort  the 
natural  hues  into  a  fiery  brightness.  My 
brain  reels.  Strange  objects  appear.  The 
fever  is  upon  me ! 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  145 

The  laden  currents  clash  in  their  wild 

torsion.     I   am  twisted  around,  and   torn 

from  my  saddle, — my  eyes,  mouth,  and  ears 

are   filled  with   dust.     Sand,     stones,   and 

branches  strike  me  spitefully  in  the  face; 

and  I  am  flung  with  violence  to  the  earth ! 
*  *  *  * 

I  lay  for  a  moment  where  I  had  fallen, 
half  buried  and  blind.  I  could  perceive 
that  thick  clouds  of  dust  were  still  sweeping 
over  me. 

I  was  neither  stunned  nor  hurt;  and  I 
began  to  grope  around  me,  for  as  yet  I 
could  see  nothing.  My  eyes  were  full  of 
sand,  and  pained  me  exceedingly.  Throw- 
ing out  my  arms,  I  felt  for  my  horse, — I 
called  him  by  name.  A  low  whimper 
answered  me.  I  staggered  toward  the  spot, 
and  laid  my  hands  upon  him, — he  was 
down  upon  his  flank.  I  seized  the  bridle, 
and  he  sprang  up ;  but  I  could  feel  that  he 
was  shivering  like  an  aspen  ! 

VOL.  I.  H 


146  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

I  stood  by  my  horse's  head  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  rubbing  the  dust  from  my  eyes; 
and  waiting  until  the  simoon  might  settle 
away.  At  length  the  atmosphere  grew 
clearer,  and  I  could  see  the  sky.  The  sand 
still  drifted  along  the  ridges,  and  I  could  not 
distinguish  the  surface  of  the  plain.  There 
were  no  signs  of  God^.  He  might  be  near 
me  notwithstanding;  and  I  shouted  loudly, 
calling  him  by  name.  I  listened,  but  there 
was  no  answer.  Again  I  raised  my  voice,  and 
with  a  like  result.  There  was  no  sound  but 
the  singing  of  the  wind. 

I  mounted ;  and  commenced  riding  over 
the  plain  in  search  of  my  comrade.  I  had 
no  idea  of  what  direction  he  might  have 
taken. 

I  made  a  circuit  of  a  mile  or  so— still 
calling  his  name  as  I  went.  I  received 
no  reply,  and  could  see  no  traces  upon  the 
ground.  I  rode  for  an  hour,  galloping 
from  ridge  to  ridge,  but  still  without  meet- 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  147 

ing  any  signs  of  my  comrade  or  the  mules. 
I  pulled  up  in  despair.  I  had  shouted, 
until  I  was  faint  and  hoarse.  I  could 
search  no  longer. 

I  was  thirsty  and  would  drink.  "  0 
God !  my  xuages  are  broken  !  the  pack 
mule  has  carried  off  the  water-skin." 

The  crushed  calabash  still  hung  upon  its 
thong ;  but  the  last  drops  it  had  contained, 
were  trickling  down  the  flanks  of  my 
horse.  I  knew  that  I  might  be  fifty  miles 
from  water ! 

You  cannot  understand  the  fearfulness 
of  this  situation.  You  live  in  a  northern 
zone — in  a  land  of  pools  and  streams  and 
limpid  springs.  You  have  never  felt  thirst. 
You  know  not  the  want  of  water.  It  gushes 
from  every  hill  side ;  and  you  have  grown 
fastidious  about  its  quality.  You  complain 
of  its  hardness,  its  softness,  or  its  want 
of  crystal  purity.  How  unlike  the  denizen 
of  the  desert — the  voyageur  of  the  prairie 

H  2 


148  THE   SCALP-HUNTEKS. 

sea!  Water  is  his  chief  care — his  ever 
present  sojicitude.  "Water  the  divinity  he 
worships. 

Hunger  he  can  stifle — so  long  as  a  patch 
of  his  leathern  garment  hangs  to  him. 
Should  game  not  appear,  he  can  trap  the 
marmot,  catch  the  lizard,  and  gather  the 
prairie  crickets.  He  knows  every  root  and 
seed  that  will  sustain  life.  Give  him  water, 
and  he  will  live  and  struggle  on.  He  will, 
in  time,  crawl  out  of  the  desert.  Without 
this,  he  may  chew  the  leaden  bullet,  or  the 
pebble  of  chalcedony.  He  may  split  the 
spheroid  cactus ;  and  open  the  intestines  of 
the  butchered  bufiklo ;  but  in  the  end  he 
must  die.  Without  water,  even  in  the 
midst  of  plenty  — plenty  of  food — ^he  must 
die.  Ah  !  you  know  not  thirst.  It  is  a 
fearful  thing.  In  the  wild  western  desert 
it  is  the  thirst  that  kills  ! 

No  wonder  I  was  filled  with  despair.     I 
believed  myself  to  be  about  the  middle  of 


THE    SCALP- HUNTERS.  149 

the  Jornada.  I  knew  that  I  could  never 
reach  the  other  side  without  water.  The 
yearning  had  already  begun.  My  throat 
and  tongue  felt  shrivelled  and  parched. 
Thirst  and  fever  had  done  it.  The  desert 
dust,  too,  had  contributed  its  share.  Fierce 
desires  already  gnawed  me  with  ceaseless 
tooth! 

I  had  lost  all  knowledge  of.  the  course  I 
should  take.  The  mountains — hitherto  our 
guide — seemed  to  trend  in  every  direction. 
Their  numerous  spurs  puzzled  me. 

I  remembered  hearing  of  a  spring — the 
Ojo  del  Muerto — that  was  said  to  lie  west- 
ward of  the  trail.  Sometimes  there  was 
water  in  this  spring.  On  other  occasions 
travellers  had  reached  it,  only  to  find  the 
fountain  dried  up,  and  leave  their  bones 
upon  its  banks !  So  ran  the  tales  in  So- 
corro. 

For  some  minutes  I  vacillated ;  and  then, 
pulling  the  right  rein  of  my  bridle  almost 


150  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

involuntarily,  I  headed  my  horse  westward. 
I  would  seek  the  spring;  and,  should  I  fail 
to  find  it,  push  on  to  the  river.  This  was 
turning  out  of  my  course ;  but  I  must  reach 
the  water,  and  save  my  life. 

I  sat  in  my  saddle,  faint  and  choking, 
leaving  my  animal  to  go  at  will.  I  had 
lost  the  energy  to  guide  him. 

He  went  many  miles — westward — for  the 
sun  told  me  the  course.  I  was  suddenly 
roused  from  my  stupor.  A  glad  sight  was 
before  me.  A  lake !  A  lake  shining  like 
crystal!  Was  I  certain  I  saw  it?  Could  it 
be  the  mirage  ?  No.  Its  outlines  were  too 
sharply  defined.  It  had  not  that  filmy 
whitish  appearance  which  distinguishes  the 
latter  phenomenon.  No.  It  was  not  the 
mirage.     It  was  water ! 

I  involuntarily  pressed  the  spur  against 
the  sides  of  my  horse.  But  he  needed  not 
that.  He  had  already  eyed  the  water ;  and 
sprang  forward  inspirited  with  new  energy. 
The  next  moment  he  was  in  it  to  his  flanks. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS,  151 

I  flung  myself  from  the  saddle  with  a 
plunge.  I  was  about  to  lift  the  water  in 
my  concave  palms,  when  the  actions  of  my 
horse  attracted  me.  Instead  of  drinking 
greedily,  he  stood  tossing  his  head  with 
snorts  of  disappointment !  My  dog  too  re- 
fused to  lap ;  and  ran  along  the  shore  whin- 
ing and  howling ! 

I  knew  what  this  meant;  but — with  that 
common  obstinacy  which  refuses  aU  testi- 
mony but  the  evidence  of  the  senses — I 
lifted  some  drops  in  my  hand,  and  applied 
them  to  my  lips.  They  were  briny  and 
burning !  I  might  have  known  this  before 
reaching  the  lake,  for  I  had  ridden  through 
a  salt  incrustation  that  surrounded  it  like  a 
belt  of  snow.  But  my  brain  was  fevered. 
My  reason  had  left  me ! 

It  was  of  no  use  remaining  where  I  was.  I 
clinched  back  into  my  saddle ;  and  rode  along 
the  shore,  over  fields  of  snow-white  salt! 
Here  and  there,  my  horse's  hoof  rang  against 


152  THE    SCALP-HUNTItRS. 

bleaching  bones  of  animals — the  remains  of 
many  a  victim.  Well  was  this  lake  named 
the  Lao;una  del  Muerto — the  "Lake  of 
Death!'' 

Keaching  its  southern  point,  I  again 
headed  westward,  in  hopes  of  striking  the 
river. 

From  this  time  until  a  later  period, — 
when  I  found  myself  in  a  far  different  scene 
— I  have  no  distinct  memories.  Incidents, 
I  remember,  unconnected  with  each  other, 
but  nevertheless  real.  These  are  linked,  in 
my  memory,  with  others  so  wild  and  im- 
probable, that  I  can  only  consider  the  latter 
as  fancies  of  the  madness  that  was  then  upon 
me.  But  some  were  real.  My  reason 
must  have  returned  at  intervals,  by  some 
strange  oscillation  of  the  brain ! 

I  remember  dismounting  on  a  high  bank 
—  I  must  have  travelled  unconsciously*  for 
hours  before — for  the  sun  was  low  down,  on 
the  horizon,  as  I  alighted.     It  was  a  very 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  153 

high  bank — a  precipice— and  below  me  I  saw 
a  beautiful  river  sweeping  onward  through 
groves  of  emerald  greenness.  I  thought 
there  were  many  birds  fluttering  in  the 
groves  ;  and  their  voices  rang  in  de- 
licious melody.  There  was  fragrance 
on  the  air;  and  the  scene  below  me 
seemed  an  Elysium.  I  thought,  that, 
around  where  I  stood,  all  was  bleak,  and 
barren,  and  parched  with  intolerable  heat. 
I  was  tortured  with  a  slakeless  thirst,  that 
grew  fiercer,  as  I  gazed  on  the  flowing 
water.  These  were  real  incidents.  All  this 
was  true.  *  *  *  * 

I  must  drink.  I  must  to  the  river.  It 
is  cool  sweet  water.  Oh!  I  must  drink. 
What !  A  horrid  cliff" !  No — I  will  not  go 
down  there.  I  can  descend  more  easily 
here.  Who  are  these  forms?  Who  are 
you,  sir?  Ah!  it  is  you,  my  brave  Moro; 
and  you.  Alp.  Come !  Come !  Follow  me ! 
Down— down  to  the  river!     Ah!     Again 

H  3 


154  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

that  accursed  cliff !  Look  at  the  beautiful 
water !  It  smiles !  It  ripples— on— on— on ! 
Let  us  drink !  No— not  yet — we  cannot  yet. 
We  must  go  farther.  Ugh !  Such  a  height 
to  leap  from!  But  we  must  drink— one 
and  all.  Come,  Gode!  Come,  Moro— old 
friend !  Alp  !  Come  on !  We  will  reach 
it— we  will  drink.  Who  is  Tantalus?  Ha  ! 
ha!  Not  I — not  I.  Stand  back,  fiends! 
Do  not  push  me  over  !  Back !  back,  I  say. 
Oh!  *  ^-  *  * 

I  thought  that  forms — many  of  them — 
forms,  strange  and  fiend-like — clustered 
around  me ;  and  dragged  me  to  the  brink 
of  the  clifi*.  I  was  launched  out  in  the  air. 
I  felt  myself  falling — falling — falling,  and 
still  came  no  nearer  to  the  green  trees, 
and  the  bright  water,  though  I  could  see 

them  shining  below  me ! 

*  *  *  * 

I  rest  upon  a  rock — a  mass  of  vast  di- 
mensions—but it  is  not  at  rest.     It  is  swim- 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  155 

ming  onTvard  through  empty  space.  I 
cannot  move  myself.  I  lie  helpless — • 
stretched  along  its  surface — while  it  sweeps 
onward.  It  is  an  aerolite.  It  can  be  no- 
thing but  that.  0  God !  there  will  be  a 
terrible  collision  when  it  strikes  some  planet 
world!     Horror!   horror!        *  * 

I  am  lying  on  the  ground — the  ground  of 
the  earth.  It  upheaves  beneath  me,  and 
oscillates  to  and  fro  like  the  undulations 
of  an  earthquake!         *  *  # 

Part  of  all  this  was  reality;  part  was  a 
dream — a  dream,  that  bore  some  resem- 
blance to  the  horrors  oi2i  first  intoxication. 


156  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ZOE. 

I  LAY  tracing  the  figures  upon  the  cur- 
tains. They  were  scenes  of  the  olden  time. 
Mailed  knights,  helmed  and  mounted,  dash- 
ing at  each  other  with  couched  lances ;  or 
tumbling  from  their  horses,  pierced  by  the 
spear.  Other  scenes  there  were :  noble 
dames,  sitting  on  Flemish  palfreys,  and 
watching  the  flight  of  the  merlin  hawk. 
There  were  pages  in  waiting ;  and  dogs,  of 
curious  and  extinct  breeds,  held  in  the  leash. 
Perhaps  these  never  existed,  except  in  the 
dreams  of  some  old-fashioned  artist ;  but 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  157 

my  eye  followed  their  strange  shapes  with 
a  sort  of  half  idiotic  wonder. 

I  was  forcibly  impressed  with  the  noble 
features  of  the  dames.  Was  that,  too,  a  fancy 
of  the  painter?  or  were  those  divine  outlines 
of  face  and  figure  typical  of  the  times  ?  If 
so,  no  wonder  that  corselets  were  crushed, 
and  lances  shivered  for  their  smiles. 

Metallic  rods  upheld  the  curtains — rods 
that  shone  brightly,  and  curv^ed  upwards, 
forming  a  canopy.  My  eyes  ran  along 
these  rods,  scanning  their  configuration, 
and  admiring,  as  a  child  admires,  the  regu- 
larity of  their  curves.  I  was  not  in  my 
o^vn  land.  These  things  were  strange  to 
me ;  "  yet,"  thought  I,  "  I  have  seen  some- 
thing like  them  before,^'  but  where  ?  Oh  ! 
this  I  know — with  its  broad  stripes  and 
silken  texture  —  it  is  a  Navajo  blanket! 
Where  was  1  last  ?  In  New  Mexico  ?  Yes. 
Now,  I  remember — the  Jornada!  but  how 
came  I ? 


158  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  Can  I  untwist  this  ?  It  is  close  woven 
— it  is  wool  —  fine  wool.  No,  I  cannot 
separate  a  thread  from 

"My  fingers !  how  white  and  thin  they  are ! 
and  my  nails— blue,  and  long  as  the  talons 
of  a  bird  !  I  have  a  beard !  I  feel  it  on  my 
chin.  What  gave  me  a  beard  ?  I  never  wear 
it;  I  will  shave  it  ofi* — ^ha! — my  moustache! 

"The  knights — how  they  tilt  at  each  other! 
Bloody  work  !  That  bold  fellow  —  the 
smaller  too — will  unhorse  the  other.  I  can 
tell  from  the  spring  of  his  horse,  and  the 
way  he  sits  him.  Horse  and  rider  are  the 
same  being  now.  The  same  mind  unites 
them  by  a  mysterious  link.  The  horse  feels 
with  his  rider.  He  cannot  fail  to  conquer 
charging  thus. 

"  Those  beautiful  ladies  !  She  with  the 
hawk  perched  on  her  arm — how  brilliant — 
how  bold,  yet  lovely  ! " 

I  was  wearied,  and  slept  again.    *       * 

Once  more  my  eyes  were  tracing  the 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  159 

figures  upon  the  curtains — the  knights  and 
dames — the  hounds,  hawks,  and  horses. 
But  my  brain  had  become  clearer,  and  music 
was  flowing  into  it.   I  lay  silent,  and  listened. 

The  voice  was  a  female's.  It  was  soft 
and  finely  modulated.  Some  one  played 
upon  a  stringed  instrument.  I  recognised 
the  tones  of  the  Spanish  harp ;  but  the  song 
was  French — a  song  of  Normandy ;  and  the 
words  were  in  the  language  of  that  romantic 
land !  I  wondered  at  this,  for  my  conscious- 
ness of  late  events  was  returning ;  and  I 
knew  that  I  was  far  from  France. 

The  light  was  streaming  over  my  couch; 
and,  turning  my  face  to  the  front,  I  saw 
that  the  curtains  were  drawn  aside. 

I  was  in  a  large  room  oddly,  but  elegantly 
furnished.  Human  figures  were  before  me, 
seated  and  standing.  Some  were  reclining 
upon  the  floor — others  were  seated  upon 
chairs  and  ottomans;  and  all  appeared  to 
be  busy  with  some  occupation.     I  thought 


160  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

there  were  many  figures — six  or  eight  at 
the  least.  This  proved  to  be  an  illusion. 
I  found  that  the  objects  before  me  made  du- 
plicate impressions  upon  my  diseased  retina ; 
and  everything  appeared  to  exist  in  pairs — 
the  counterparts  of  each  other!  After  look- 
ing steadily  for  a  while,  my  vision  became 
more  distinct  and  reliable;  and  I  saw  that 
there  were  but  three  persons  in  the  room — a 
man  and  two  females. 

I  remained  silent — not  certain  but  that 
the  scene  before  me  was  only  some  new 
phase  of  my  dream.  My  eyes  wandered 
from  one  of  the  living  figures  to  another, 
without  attracting  the  attention  of  any  of 
them. 

They  were  all  in  different  attitudes,  and 
occupied  differently. 

Nearest  me  was  a  woman  of  middle 
age,  seated  upon  a  low  ottoman.  .  The 
harp,  I  had  heard,  was  before  her;  and 
she  continued  to  play.  She  must  have 
been,    I  thought,  when  young,  a  woman 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS  161 

• 

of  extreme  beauty.  She  was  still  beautiful 
in  a  certain  sense.  The  noble  features  were 
there,  though  I  could  perceive  that  they 
had  been  scathed  by  more  than  ordinary 
suffering  of  the  mind.  The  silken  surface 
had  yielded  to  care  as  well  as  time. 

She  was  a  Frenchwoman — an  ethnologist 
could  have  told  that  at  a  glance.  Those 
lines — the  characteristics  of  her  highly- gifted 
race  — were  easily  traceable.  I  thought 
there  was  a  time  when  that  face  had  witched 
many  a  heart  with  its  smiles.  There  were 
no  smiles  on  it  now,  but  a  deep  yet  intellec- 
tual expression  of  melancholy.  This  I  per- 
ceived too  in  her  voice — in  her  song — in 
every  note  that  vibrated  from  the  strings  of 
the  instrument. 

My  eye  wandered  farther.  A  man  of 
more  than  middle  age  stood  by  the  table, 
near  the  centre  of  the  room.  His  face  was 
turned  towards  me  ;  and  its  nationality  was 
as  easily  determined  as  that  of  the  lady. 


162  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

* 

The  high  florid  cheeks — the  broad  front — 
the  prominent  chin — the  small  green  cap, 
with  its  long  peak  and  conical  croAvn — the 
blue  spectacles — were  all  characteristics. 
He  was  a  German.  It  was  a  face  not  intel- 
lectual in  its  expression;  yet  have  men, 
"svith  such  a  physiognomy,  given  proofs 
of  intellectual  research  in  every  depart- 
ments of  science  and  art — research  deep 
and  wonderful,  with  ordinary  talents  and  ex- 
traordinary labour.  Labour  Herculean  that 
knot's  no  wearying.  Pelion  piled  on  Ossa. 
I  thought  of  this  as  I  scanned  the  features 
of  the  man. 

His  occupation  was  also  characteristic 
of  his  nationality.  Before  him  were  strewed 
over  the  table,  and  upon  the  floor,  the  objects 
of  his  study — plants  and  shrubs  of  various 
species.  He  was  busy  with  these — classify- 
ing, and  carefully  laying  them  out  between 
the  leaves  of  his  portfolio.  It  was  evident 
that  the  old  man  was  a  botanist. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  163 

A  glance  to  tlie  right,  and  the  naturalist 
and  his  labours  were  no  lonoi:er  reorarded. 
I  was  looking  upon  the  loveliest  object  that 
ever  came  before  my  eyes;  and  my  heart 
bounded  within  me,  as  I  strained  forward  in 
the  intensity  of  its  admiration.  The  Iris  on 
the  summer  shower — the  rosy  dawn — the 
brilliant  hues  of  the  bird  of  Juno — are  bright 
soft  things.  Blend  them — blend  all  the  beau- 
ties of  nature  in  one  harmonious  whole — and 
there  ^vill  still  be  wanting  that  mysterious 
essence,  that  enters  the  heart  of  the  be- 
holder, while  gazing  upon  the  loveliness  of 
the  female  form. 

Of  all  created  things,  there  is  none  so 
fair — none  so  lovely — as  a  lovely  woman ! 

Yet  it  was  not  a  woman  that  held  my  gaze 
captive,  but  a  child — a  girl — a  maid — stand- 
ing upon  the  threshold  of  womanhood — 
ready  to  cross  it  at  the  first  summons  of 
Love ! 

Men  call  beauty  an  arbitrary  thing — a 


164  THE   SCALP-PIUNTERS. 

fancy, — a  caprice, — a  fashion — that  to  which 
we  are  used.  How  often  do  we  hear  this 
hackneyed  opinion,  while  he,  who  utters  it, 
revels  in  the  conceit  of  his  own  wisdom  ? 
"  Every  eye  forms  its  own  beauty."  A 
false  and  shallow  sophism.  We  might  as  well 
declare  that  every  tongue  forms  its  own 
taste.  Is  honey  sweet?  Is  wormwood 
bitter?  Yes — in  both  cases — sweet,  and 
bitter — to  the  child  or  the  man — to  the 
savage  or  the  civilized — to  the  ignorant 
and  the  educated.  This  is  true  under 
all  circumstances,  unless  indeed,  where 
caprice,  habit  or  fashion,  form  the  ecc- 
ception.  Why  then  deny  to  one  sense 
what  all  the  others  so  palpably  possess? 
Has  not  the  human  eye,  in  its  natural  state, 
its  likes  and  its  dislikes?  It  has;  and  the 
laws  that  regulate  them  are  as  fixed  and 
unerring  as  the  orbits  of  the  stars.  We  do 
not  know  these  laws — but  that  they  exist 
we  know;  and  can  prove  it  as  clearly  as 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  165 

Leverrier  determined  the  existence  of  Nep- 
tune— a  world  within  reach  of  telescopic 
vision — yet  wheeling  for  millions  of  years  un- 
detected by  the  sleepless  sentinels  of  as- 
tronomy ! 

Why  does  the  eye  rove  with  delight 
around  the  outlines  of  the  circle  ?  along  the 
curve  of  the  ellipse?  of  every  section  of  the 
cone?  Why  does  it  roam  transported 
along  the  line  of  Hogarth?  Why  does  it 
grieve  when  this  line  is  broken?  Ah! 
These  are  its  likes  and  its  dislikes — its 
sweets  and  its  bitters — its  honey  and  its 
wormwood. 

Beauty,  then,  is  not  an  arbitrary  thing. 
The  fancy — the  conventionalism — is  not  in 
the  object,  but  in  the  eye  of  the  gazer — the 
eye  uneducated,  vulgar,  or  perchance  dis- 
torted by  fashion.  Forms  and  colours  are 
beautiful,  independently  of  all  opinions  re- 
garding them. 

There  is  still  a  higher  point  which  may 
be    established    in    connection    with    this 


166  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

theory  —  an  intellectual  cause  can  be 
assigned,  why  an  object  is  beautiful  or 
otherwise.  Intellect  has  its  forms  and 
shapes  in  the  physical  world.  It  dwells 
in  beauty,  notwithstanding  the  many  appa- 
rent contradictions.  Ugliness,  —  hideous 
word, — must  exert  itself  to  obtain  what 
beauty  commands  without  an  effort.  Hence 
you  see  distinction — the  presumptive  proof 
of  intellectual  greatness — so  often  coupled 
with  physical  plainness.  Hence  the  homely 
histrionic  artiste — hence  the  female  biblio- 
grapher— hence  the  "  hluey  On  the  other 
hand,  beauty  sits  enthroned  like  a  queen  or 
a  Goddess.  She  makes  no  effort,  because 
she  feels  not  the  necessity.  The  world 
approaches,  at  her  slightest  summons,  and 
spreads  its  offerings  at  her  feet ! 

These  thoughts  did  not  all  pass  through 
my  mind — though  some  of  them  did — 
while  my  eyes,  delighted,  revelled  along  the 
graceful  curves  that  outlined  the  beautiful 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  167 

being  before  me.  I  thought,  I  had  seen  the 
face  somewhere.  I  had — but  a  moment 
before— while  looking  upon  that  of  the  elder 
lady.  They  were  the  same  face — using  a 
figure  of  speech, — the  type  transmitted  from 
mother  to  daughter.  The  same  high  front, 
and  facial  angle — the  same  outline  of  the  nose, 
straight  as  a  ray  of  light,  with  the  delicate 
spiral- like  curve  of  the  nostril,  which  meets 
you  in  the  Greek  medallion.  Their  hair  too 
was  alike  in  colour,  golden ;  though,  in  that 
of  the  mother,  the  gold  showed  an  enamel 
of  silver.  The  tresses  of  the  girl  were 
like  sunbeams,  straying  over  a  neck  and 
shoulders,  that,  for  delicate  whiteness,  might 
have  been  chiseled  from  the  stones  of 
Carrara. 

All  this  may  seem  high  language — figura- 
tive— if  you  will.  I  can  neither  write  nor 
speak  otherwise  on  this  theme.  I  will 
desist,  and  spare  details,  which,  to  you  may 
be  of  little  interest.     In  return,  do  me  the 


168  THE    SCALP'HUNTERS. 

favour  to  believe,  that  the  being,  who  im- 
pressed me  then  and  for  ever,  was  beautiful 
— was  lovely. 

"  Ah !  it  wod  be  ver  moch  kindness  if 
Madame  and  Ma'm'selle  wod  play  le  Marseil- 
laise— le  grand  Marseillaise.  What  say 
mine  lieber  freilen?" 

"  Zoe,  Zoe  ! "  take  thy  bandolon.  Yes, 
Doctor ;  we  will  play  it  for  you  with  plea- 
sure. You  like  the  music?  So  do  we. 
Come  Zoe!" 

The  young  girl,  who,  up  to  this  time,  had 
been  watching  intently  the  labours  of  the 
naturalist,  glided  to  a  remote  corner  of  the 
room ;  and,  taking  up  an  instrument  resem- 
bling the  guitar,  returned  and  seated  herself 
by  her  mother.  The  bandolon  was  soon 
placed  in  concert  with  the  harp  ;  and  the 
strings  of  both  vibrated  to  the  thrilling 
notes  of  the  "  Marseillaise." 

There  was  something  exceedingly  grace- 
ful in  the  performance.     The  instrumenta- 


THE    SCALP- HUNTERS.  169 

tion,  as  I  thought,  was  perfect ;  and  the 
voices  of  the  players  accompanied  it  in  a 
sweet  and  spirited  harmony.  As  I  gazed  upon 
the  girl  Zoe — her  features  animated  by  the 
thrilling  thoughts  of  the  anthem — her  whole 
countenance  radiant  with  light — she  seemed 
some  immortal  being — a  young  goddess  of 
liberty,    calling  her  children  "  to  arms  !" 

The  botanist  had  desisted  from  his  labours ; 
and  stood  hstenino;  with  delio^hted  attention. 
At  each  return  of  the  thrilling  invocation 
''  Aux  armes^  citoyens!^^  the  old  man  snap- 
ped his  fingers,  and  beat  the  floor  with  his 
feet,  marking  the  time  of  the  music.  He 
was  fiUed  with  the  same  spirit,  which  at 
that  time  over  all  Europe,  was  gathering  to 
its  crisis  ! 

"Where  am  I?  French  faces — French 
music — French  voices,  and  the  conversation 
in  French  ! "  for  the  botanist  addressed  the 
females  in  that  language,  though  with  a 
strong  Rhenish  patois^  that  confirmed  my 

VOL.  I.  I 


170  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

first  impressions  of  his  nationality.  '*  Where 
ami?" 

My  eye  ran  around  the  room  in  search  of 
an  answer.  I  could  recognise  the  furni- 
ture. The  cross-legged  Campeachy  chairs — 
a  rebozo  —  the  palm-leaf  jpetate — "  Ha  — 
Alp!" 

The  dog  lay  stretched  along  the  matrass 
near  my  couch,  and  sleeping. 

"  Alp !  Alp  !  " 

"  Oh !  mama — mama — ecoutez  !  the  stran- 
ger calls." 

The  dog  sprang  to  his  feet ;  and,  throwing 
his  fore-paws  upon  the  bed,  stretched  his 
nose  toward  me,  with  a  joyous  whimpering. 
I  reached  out  my  hand,  and  patted  him, 
at  the  same  time  giving  utterance  to  some 
expressions  of  endearment. 

"  Oh  !  mama — mama !  he  knows  him — 
voila!" 

The  lady  rose  hastily,  and  approached  the 
bed.     The  German  seized  me  by  the  wrist, 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  171 

pushing  back   the  San  Bernard,  who  was 
bounding  to  spring  upward. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  he  is  well.  His  eyes,  Doc- 
tor.    How  changed !  '^ 

"Ya — ya — moch  better — ver  moch  bet- 
ter. Hush — away  tog  !  Keep  away,  mine 
goot  tog  !  '^ 

"  Who — where — tell  me,  where  am  I — 
who  are  you  ?  '* 

"  Do  not  fear — we  are  friends — you  have 
been  iU." 

"  Yes — yes — we  are  friends — you  have 
been  ill,  sir.  Do  not  fear  us — we  will 
watch  you.  This  is  the  good  Doctor.  This 
is  mama,  and  I  am — " 

"  An  angel  from  Heaven — beautiful  Zoe !" 

The  child  looked  at  me  with  an  expres- 
sion of  wonder  ;  and  blushed,  as  she  said  : — 

"  Hear  mama  !    He  knows  my  name ! " 

It  was  the  first  compliment  she  had  ever 
received  from  the  lips  of  love. 

"  It  is  goot,  Madame — he  is  ver  moch  re- 

I  2 


172  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

lieft — he  ver  soon  get  over  now.  Keep 
away,  mine  goot  Alp  !  Your  master  he 
get  well  ;  goot  tog,  down!  " 

'^  Perhaps,  Doctor,  we  should  leave  him — 
the  noise — " 

"  No,  no  !  if  you  please  stay  with  me — 
the  music — ^will  you  play  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  music  is  ver  goot— ver  goot 
for  te  prain." 

"  Oh!  mama;  let  us  play  then." 

Both  mother  and  daughter,  took  up  their 
instruments,  and  again  commenced  playing. 

I  listened  to  the  sweet  strains,  watching 
the  fair  musicians  a  long  while.  My  eyes 
at  length  became  heavy;  and  the  reali- 
ties before  me  changed  into  the  soft  outlines 

of  a  dream. 

*  *  *  * 

My  dream,  was  broken  by  the  abrupt  ces- 
sation of  the  music.  I  thought  I  heard, 
through  my  sleep,  the  opening  of  a  door. 
When  I  looked  to  the  spot,  lately  occupied 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  173 

by  the  musicians,  I  saw  that  they  were 
gone  !  The  bandolon  had  been  thrown 
down  upon  the  ottoman,  where  it  lay,  but 
she  was  not  there  ! 

I  could  not,  from  my  position,  see  the 
whole  of  the  apartment ;  but  I  knew  that 
some  one  had  entered  at  the  outer  door.  I 
heard  expressions  of  welcome  and  endear- 
ment— a  rustling  of  dresses — the  words 
"  papa,"  "  my  little  Zoe,'^  the  latter  uttered 
in  the  voice  of  a  man.  Then  followed  some 
explanations  in  a  lower  tone,  which  I  could 
not  hear. 

A  few  minutes  elapsed,  and  I  lay  silent  and 
listening.  Presently,  there  were  footsteps 
in  the  hall.  A  boot,  with  its  jingling 
rowels,  struck  upon  the  tiled  floor.  The 
footsteps  entered  the  room,  and  approached 
the  bed.  I  started,  as  I  looked  up.  The 
Scalp-hunter  teas  before  me  ! 


174  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


SEGUIN. 


"  You  are  better — you  will  soon  be  well 
again.     I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  recover.'^ 

He  said  this  without  offering  his  hand. 

"  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  my  life.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  " 

It  is  strange  that  I  felt  convinced  of  this, 
the  moment  that  I  set  my  eyes  upon  the 
man.  I  think  such  an  idea  crossed  my 
mind  before — after  awaking  from  my  long 
dream.  Had  I  encountered  him  in  my 
struggles  for  water  ?  or  had  I  dreamed  it  ? 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  175 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  he,  with  a  smile, 
"  but  you  will  remember,  that  I  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  your  being  exposed  to  the 
risk  of  losing  it." 

"  Will  you  take  this  hand  ?  "Will  you 
forgive  me?" 

After  all,  there  is  something  selfish,  even 
in  gratitude.  How  strangely  had  it  changed 
my  feelings  towards  this  man !  I  was  beg- 
ging the  hand,  which,  but  a  few  days  before, 
in  the  pride  of  my  morality,  I  had  spurned 
from  me  as  a  loathsome  thing. 

But  there  were  other  thoughts  that  in- 
fluenced me.  The  man  before  me  was  the 
husband  of  the  lady — was  the  father  of  Zoe. 
His  character — his  horrid  calling  were  for- 
gotten ;  and,  the  next  moment  our  hands  were 
joined  in  the  embrace  of  friendship ! 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  I  honour  the 
sentiment  that  induced  you  to  act  as  you 
did.  This  declaration  may  seem  strange  to 
you.    From  what  you  knew  of  me,  you  acted 


176  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

rightly  ;  but  there  may  be  a  time,  sir,  when 
you  will  know  me  better — when  the  deeds, 
which  you  abhor,  may  seem  to  you  not  only 
pardonable,  but  justifiable.  Enough  of  this 
at  present.  The  object  of  my  being  now  at 
your  bedside,  is  to  request  that  what  you  do 
hnow  of  me,  be  not  uttered  here  !  " 

His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper  as  he  said 
this — pointing,  at  the  same  time,  towards 
the  door  of  the  room. 

''  But  how,"  I  asked,  wishing  to  draw  tis 
attention  from  this  unpleasant  theme,  "how 
came  I  in  this  house?  It  is  yours,  I  per- 
ceive. How  came  I  here  ?  Where  did  you 
find  me?" 

"In  no  very  safe  position,"  answered  he, 
with  a  smile.  "  I  can  scarcely  claim  the 
merit  of  saving  you.  Your  noble  horse  you 
may  thank  for  that." 

*'Ah!  my  horse — my  brave  Moro  !  I 
have  lost  him. " 

"  Your  horse  is  standing  at  the  maize- 


THE   SCALP-HUNTEES.  177 

trough,  not  ten  paces  from  where  you  lie. 
I  think  you  will  find  him  in  somewhat  better 
condition,  than  when  you  last  saw  him. 
Your  mules  are  without.  Your  packs  are 
safe.  You  will  find  them  here,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  foot  of  the  bed." 

"  And ?" 

"  Gode  you  would  ask  for,"  said  he,  in- 
terrupting me.  "  Do  not  be  uneasy  on  his 
account.  He,  too,  is  in  safety.  He  is  ab- 
sent just  now,  but  will  soon  return." 

"  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  This  is  good 
news  indeed.  My  brave  Moro!  and  Alp 
here !  But  how — you  say  my  horse  saved 
me.  He  has  done  so  before ;  how  can  this 
be?" 

"Simply  thus.  We  found  you,  many 
miles  from  this  place,  on  a  cliff  that  overlooks 
the  Del  Norte.  You  were  hanging  over  on 
your  lazo,  that,  by  a  lucky  accident,  had 
become  entangled  around  your  body.  One 
end  of  it  was  knotted  to  the  bit-ring,  and 

i3 


178  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  noble  animal,  thrown  back  on  his 
haunches,  sustained  your  weight  upon  his 
neck!" 

"  Noble  Moro !  what  a  terrible  situation! " 

"  Aye,  you  may  say  that.  Had  you  fallen 
from  it,  you  would  have  passed  through  a 
thousand  feet  of  air,  before  striking  the  rocks 
below.     It  was  indeed  a  fearful  situation." 

^'  I  must  have  staggered  over  in  my  search 
for  water." 

"  In  your  delirium,  you  walked  over. 
You  would  have  done  so  a  second  time,  had 
we  not  prevented  you.  When  we  drew  you 
up  on  the  cliff,  you  struggled  hard  to  get 
back.  You  saw  the  water  below,  but  not 
the  precipice.  Thirst  is  a  terrible  thing — 
an  insanity  of  itself" 

"  I  remember  something  of  all  this.  I 
thought  it  had  been  a  dream." 

'^Do  not  trouble  your  brain  with  these 
things.  The  doctor  here  admonishes  me  to 
leave  you.      I  have  an  object,   as   I  have 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  179 

said."  Here  a  sad  expression  passed  over 
the  countenance  of  the  speaker,  "  else  I 
should  not  have  paid  you  this  visit.  I 
have  not  many  moments  to  spare.  To-night 
I  must  be  far  hence.  In  a  few  days  I  will 
return.  Meanwhile,  compose  yourself,  and 
get  well.  The  doctor  here  will  see  that  you 
want  for  nothing.  My  wife  and  daughter 
will  nurse  you." 

'^Thanks!  thanks!" 

"  You  will  do  well  to  remain  where  you 
are,  until  your  friends  return  from  Chihua- 
hua. They  will  pass  not  far  from  this  place  ; 
and  I  will  warn  you  when  they  are  near.  You 
are  a  student.  There  are  books  here,  in 
different  languages.  Amuse  yourself.  They 
will  give  you  music.      Monsieur,  adieu !" 

"  Stay,  sir  !  one  moment.  You  seem  to 
have  taken  a  strange  fancy  to  my  horse?" 

"  Ah !  monsieur,  it  was  no  fancy — but  I 
will  explain  that  at  some  other  time.  Per- 
haps the  necessity  no  longer  exists." 


180  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"Take  him  if  you  will.  Another  will 
serve  my  purpose.'' 

"  No,  monsieur.  Do  you  think  I  could 
rob  you  of  what  you  esteem  so  highly,  and 
with  such  just  reason  too.  No,  no.  Keep 
the  good  Moro.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your 
attachment  to  the  noble  brute." 

"  You  say  that  you  have  a  long  journey 
to-night.     Then,  take  him  for  the  time." 

"  That  offer  I  will  freely  accept ;  for,  in- 
deed, my  own  horse  is  somewhat  jaded.  I 
have  been  two  days  in  the  saddle.  Well — 
adieu ! 

"  Seguin  pressed  my  hand^  and  walked 
away.  I  heard  the  ^'chink-chink"  of  his 
spurs,  as  he  crossed  the  apartment ;  and  the 
next  moment  the  door  closing  behind  him. 

I  was  alone  ;  and  lay  listening  to  every 
sound  that  reached  me  from  without.  In 
about  half  an  hour  after  he  had  left  me,  I 
heard  the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse,  and  saw 
the  shadow  of  a  horseman  passing  outside  the 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  181 

window.  He  had  departed  on  his  journey 
— doubtless  on  the  performance  of  some  red 
duty  connected  with  his  fearful  vocation ! 

I  lay  for  a  while,  harassed  in  mind, 
thinking  of  this  strange  man.  Then  sweet 
voices  interrupted  my  meditations ;  before 
me  appeared  lovely  faces ;  and  the  scalp - 
hunter  was  forgotten. 


182  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

LOVE. 

I  WOULD  compress  the  history  of  the  ten 
days  following  into  as  many  words.  I 
would  not  weary  you  with  the  details  of  my 
love — a  love  that,  in  the  short  space  of  a 
few  hours,  became  a  passion  deep  and  ardent ! 

I  was  young  at  the  time — at  just  such  an 
age  as  to  be  impressed  by  the  romantic 
incidents  that  surrounded  me,  and  had 
thrown  this  beautiful  being  in  my  way — at 
that  age,  when  the  heart,  unguarded  by  cold 
calculations  of  the  future,  yields  unresist- 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  183 

ingly  to  the  electrical  impressions  of  love. 
I  say  electrical.  I  believe  that,  at  this  age, 
the  sympathies  that  spring  up  between  heart 
and  heart,  are  purely  of  this  nature. 

At  a  later  period  of  life,  that  power  is 
dissipated,  and  divided.  Keason  rules  it. 
We  become  conscious  of  the  capability  of 
transferring  our  affections,  for  they  have 
already  broken  faith;  and  we  lose  that 
sweet  confidence  that  comforted  the  loves  of 
our  youth.  We  are  either  imperious  or 
jealous,  as  the  advantages  appear  in  our 
favour,  or  against  us.  A  gross  alloy  enters 
into  the  love  of  our  middle  life;  sadly 
detracting  from  the  divinity  of  its  character. 

I  might  call  that,  I  then  felt,  my  first  real 
passion.  I  thought  I  had  loved  before,  but 
no ;  it  was  only  a  dream — the  dream  of  the 
village  schoolboy,  who  saw  heaven  in  the 
bright  eyes  of  his  coy  classmate  ;  or  perhaps, 
at  the  family  pic-nic,  in  some  romantic  dell, 
had  tasted  the  rosy  cheek  of  his  pretty  cousin. 


184  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

I  grew  strong  ;  and  with  a  rapidity  that 
surprised  the  skilful  man  of  herbs.  Love 
fed  and  nourished  the  fire  of  life.  The  will 
often  efi'ects  the  deed,  and  say  as  you  may, 
volition  has  its  power  upon  the  body.  The 
wish  to  be  well — to  live — an  object  to  live 
for,  are  often  the  speediest  restoratives. 
They  were  mine. 

I  grew  stronger,  and  rose  from  my  couch. 
A  glance  at  the  mirror  told  me  that  my 
colour  was  returning. 

Instinct  teaches  the  bird,  while  wooing  his 
mate,  to  plume  his  pinions  to  their  highest 
gloss ;  and  a  similar  feeling  now  rendered 
me  solicitous  about  my  toilet.  My  port- 
manteau was  ransacked — my  razors  drawn 
forth — the  beard  disappeared  from  my  chin 
— and  my  moustache  was  trimmed  to  its 
wonted  dimensions. 

I  confess  all  this.  The  world  had  told 
me  I  was  not  ill-looking,  and  I  believed  what 
it  said.  I  am  mortal  in  my  vanities.  Are 
not  you? 


THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS.  185 

With  her — Zoe — child  of  nature  in  its 
most  perfect  innocence — there  were  no  such 
conceits.  The  trickery  of  the  toilet  never 
entered  into  her  thoughts.  She  knew  not 
of  the  graces  which  had  been  so  lavishly 
bestowed  upon  her.  No  one  had  ever  told 
her  of  her  beauty.  I  had  learned  the  strange 
fact,  that,  except  her  father,  the  old  botanist, 
and  the  Pueblo  peons — the  servants  of  the 
house— I  was  the  only  person  of  my  sex  she 
had  ever  seen,  since  a  very  early  period  of  her 
life !  For  years  had  she  and  her  mother  lived 
in  the  seclusion  of  their  own  home — a  seclu- 
sion as  complete  as  that  of  a  convent.  There 
was  a  mystery  in  all  this ;  and  it  was  only 
afterwards  that  it  was  revealed  to  me. 

Hers,  then,  was  a  virgin  heart — pure  and 
spotless.  A  heart  into  whose  soft  dreams 
the  light  of  love  had  not  yet  flung  its  ray — 
against  whose  holy  innocence  love's  god  had 
not  yet  winged  a  single  arrow ! 

Are   you  of  my   sex?     Have  you  ever 


186  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

desired  to  become  the  lord  of  a  heart  like 
this  ?  If  you  can  answer  these  interro- 
gations in  the  affirmative,  then  do  I  tell 
you — what  you  may  well  remember — that 
any  exertions  you  made  to  attain  this  end  were 
idle.     You  were  loved  at  once,  or  never ! 

The  virgin  heart  is  not  gained  by  the 
finesse  of  courtship.  It  has  no  half-way 
likings,  that  may  yield  to  tender  assiduity 
on  your  part.  An  object  either  attracts  or 
repels  it ;  and  the  impression  is  quick  as  the 
lightning's  flash.  It  is  the  throwing  of  a 
die;  you  have  won  or  you  have  won  not. 
If  the  latter,  you  may  as  well  desist.  No 
effort  can  overcome  the  obstacle,  and  produce 
the  emotion  of  love.  Friendship  you  may 
gain — ^love  never.  No  coquetry  of  yours 
can  make  that  heart  jealous  ;  no  favours 
you  may  bestow  can  cause  it  to  love  you. 
You  may  conquer  worlds,  yet  not  control 
its  secret  and  silent  throbbings.  You  may 
be  the  hero  of  a  thousand  tongues,  yet  he, 
whose  image  has  been  flung  into  that  little 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  187 

heart,  will  be  its  hero,  higher  and  nobler 
than  all  others  !  That  fair  young  creature, 
— its  owner — will  be  wholly  his,  however 
humble,  however  worthless  lie  may  be. 
With  her  there  will  be  no  reservation,  no 
reasoning,  no  caution,  no  cunning.  She 
will  yield  alone  to  the  mystic  promptings  of 
nature.  Under  their  influence,  she  will 
bind  her  whole  heart  to  the  altar,  even  when 
she  knows  that  he  will  make  it  a  bleeding 
sacrifice  ! 

Is  it  thus  with  the  heart  more  matured — 
oft  assailed?  with  the  belle?  the  coquette? 
No.  Rejected  here,  you  need  not  despair. 
You  may  have  qualities,  en  'perdu^  that  will 
change  the  frown  to  a  smile.  You  may  do 
great  deeds.  You  may  achieve  renown ; 
and  the  scorn,  that  once  repelled  you,  may 
become  humility  at  your  feet.  Still  this 
may  be  love — and  strong  love  too — founded , 
upon  the  admiration  of  some  intellectual, 
or,  perhaps,  physical  quality  which  you  have 


188  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

thus  proved  yourself  possessed  of.  It  is  a 
love  guided  by  reason,  and  not  the  mysterious 
instinct  that  rules  the  former.  On  which 
of  these  loves  do  men  build  the  highest 
triumph  ?  Of  which  are  they  most  proud  ? 
Of  the  latter?  Alas !  no  ;  and  let  Him  who 
made  us  answer  why ;  but  /  never  saw  the 
man^  who  would  not  rather  he  beloved  for  the 
beauties  of  his  person  than  the  excellences  of 
his  mind  !  You  may  blame  me  for  this  de- 
claration. You  may  deny  it.  It  is  true. 
Oh !  there  is  no  joy  so  sweet,  no  triumph  so 
thrilling,  as  when  we  have  drawn  to  our 
bosom  the  quivering  little  captive,  whose 
heart  throbs  with  the  pure  pulsations  of  a 
maiden  love ! 

These  are  after  thoughts.  I  was,  at  the 
time  I  am  writing  about,  too  young  to  have 
reasoned  thus,  too  little  skilled  in  love's 
diplomacy  ;  and  yet,  many  a  process  of 
reasoning  passed  through  my  mind,  and 
many  a  scheme  was  devised,  to  enable  me  to 
discover  whether  I  was  then  beloved. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  189 

There  was  a  guitar  in  the  house.  I  had 
learnt  in  my  college  days  to  touch  the 
strings,  and  its  music  delighted  both  Zoe 
and  her  mother.  I  sang  to  them  the  songs 
of  my  own  land,  songs  of  love ;  and  with  a 
throbbing  heart  watched  whether  the  burning 
words  produced  any  impression  upon  her. 
More  than  once,  I  have  laid  aside  the  in- 
strument with  feelings  of  disappointment. 

From  day  to  day,  strange  reflections  passed 
through  my  mind.  Could  it  be  that  she 
was  too  young  to  understand  the  import  of 
the  word  love?  too  young  to  be  inspired 
with  a  passion?  She  was  but  twelve  years 
of  age  ;  but  then  she  was  the  child  of  a 
sunny  clime  ;  and  I  had  often  seen  at  that 
age,  under  the  warm  sky  of  Mexico,  the 
wedded  bride,  the  fond  mother! 

Day  after  day,  we  were  together  alone. 
The  botanist  was  busy  with  his  studies,  and 
the  silent  mother  occupied  with  the  duties 
of  her  household. 

Love  is  not  blind.     It  may  be  to  all  the 


190  THE  SCALP-HUNTERS. 

world  beside;  but  to  its  own  object  it  is 

watchful  as  the  Argus. 

*  *  #  * 

I  was  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  crayon ; 
and  I  amused  my  companion  by  sketches 
— upon  scraps  of  paper,  and  the  blank 
leaves  of  her  music.  Many  of  these  were 
the  figures  of  females,  in  dilFerent  attitudes 
and  costumes.  In  one  respect  they  re- 
sembled each  other — their  faces  were  alike ! 

The  child,  without  divining  the  cause, 
had  noticed  this  peculiarity  in  the  drawings. 
"Why  is  it?"  she  asked  one  day,  as  we 
sat  together.  "  These  ladies  are  all  in  differ- 
ent costumes — of  different  nations,  are  they 
not? — and  yet  there  is  a  resemblance  in  their 
faces !  They  have  all  the  same  features ;  in- 
deed, exactly  the  same,  I  think." 

"  It  is  your  face,  Zoe.  I  can  sketch  no 
other." 

She  raised  her  large  eyes,  and  bent  them 
upon  me  with  an  expression  of  innocent 
wonder.     Was  she  blushing?     No ! 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  191 

"Is  that  like  me?" 

"  It  is,  as  nearly  as  I  can  make  it." 

"And  why  do  you  not  sketch  other  faces?" 

"  Why !  because  I — Zoe,  I  fear  you  would 
not  understand  me." 

"  Oh !  Enrique,  do  you  think  me  so  bad 
a  scholar?  Do  I  not  understand  all  that 
you  tell  me  of  the  far  countries  where  you 
have  been  ?  Surely  I  may  comprehend  this 
as  weU?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then,  Zoe.'* 

I  bent  forward,  with  a  burning  heart  and 
trembling  voice. 

*^  It  is  because — your  face  is  ever  before 
me — I  can  paint  no  other.  It  is — that — 
I  love  yoUj  Zoe,^^ 

"Oh!  is  that  the  reason?  And  w^ien 
you  love  one,  their  face  is  always  before 
you,  whether  they  themselves  be  present  or 
DO?  is  it  not  so?" 

"  It  is  so,"  I  replied,  with  a  painful  feeling 
of  disappointment. 

"  And  is  that  la  re,  Enrique?" 


192  IHE  SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  It  is." 

''  Then  must  I  love  you ;  for,  wherever 
I  may  be,  I  can  see  your  face  —  how 
plainly,  before  me !  If  1  could  use  this 
pencil  as  you,  I  am  sure  I  could  paint  it, 
though  you  were  not  near  me !  What  then  ? 
Do  you  think  I  love  you^  Enrique?" 

No  pen  could  trace  my  feelings  at  that 
moment.  We  were  seated ;  and  the  sheet,  on 
which  were  the  sketches,  was  held  jointly 
between  us.  My  hand  wandered  over  its 
surface,  until  the  unresisting  fingers  of  my 
companion  were  clasped  in  mine.  A  wilder 
emotion  followed  the  electric  touch — the 
paper  fell  upon  the  floor— and  with  a  proud, 
but  trembling  heart,  I  drew  the  yielding 
form  to  mine  ! 

There  was  no  resistance.  Our  lips  met. 
in  the  first  kiss — a  kiss  of  reciprocal  love. 
I  felt  her  heart  throb  and  flutter,  as  she  lay 
upon  my  breast.  0  joy!  joy  1  I  was  the 
lord  of  that  little  heart ! 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  193 


CHAPTER  XY. 


LIGHT   AND    SHADE. 


The  house  we  inhabited  stood  in  a  quad- 
rangular enclosure  that  sloped  down  to  the 
banks  of  the  river, — the  Del  Norte.  This 
enclosure  was  a  garden,  or  shrubbery, 
guarded  on  all  sides  by  high  thick  walls  of 
adobe.  Along  the  summit  of  these  walls 
had  been  planted  rows  of  the  cactus,  that 
threw  out  huge  thorny  limbs,  forming  an 
impassable  chevaux  de  frise.  There  was  but 
one  entrance  to  the  house  and  garden, 
through  a  strong  wicket  gate — which,  I  had 

VOL.  I.  K 


194  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

noticed,  was  always  shut  and  barred.  I 
had  no  desire  to  go  abroad.  The  garden — a 
large  one — hitherto  had  formed  the  limit  of 
my  walk;  and  through  this,  I  often  rambled 
with  Zoe  and  her  mother ;  but  oftener  with 
Zoe  alone. 

There  were  many  objects  of  interest  about 
the  place.  It  was  a  ruin ;  and  the  house 
itself  bore  evidence  of  better  times.  It  was 
a  large  building  in  the  Moro- Spanish  style, 
with  flat  roof  (azotea),  and  notched  parapet 
running  along  the  front.  Here  and  there 
the  little  stone  turrets  of  this  parapet 
had  fallen  off,  exhibiting  evidence  of  neg- 
lect and  decay. 

The  garden  bore  these  symptoms  through- 
out its  whole  extent;  at  the  same  time, 
in  its  ruins  you  might  read  ample  tes- 
timony of  the  great  care  that  had  once 
been  bestowed  upon  it.  Crumbling  statues, 
— dry  fountains, — ruined  arbours, — weed- 
grown  walks — attested  its  former  grandeur 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  195 

— its  present  neglect.  There  were  many- 
trees  of  singular  and  exotic  species;  but 
there  was  a  wilclness  in  the  appearance  of 
their  fruit  and  foliage ;  and  they  had  grown 
into  thickets,  interlacing  each  other.  There 
was  a  free  beauty  however,  in  this  very 
wildness,  that  charmed  one;  and  the  sense 
was  further  delighted,  with  the  aroma  of  a 
thousand  flowers,  that  continually  floated 
upon  the  air. 

The  walls  of  the  garden  impinged  upon 
the  river,  and  there  ended;  for  the  bank 
was  steep  and  vertical ;  and  the  deep  still 
water  that  ran  under  it,  formed  a  sufficient 
protection  on  that  side. 

A  thick  grove  of  cotton  woods  fringed  the 
bank  of  the  river;  and  under  their  shade 
had  been  erected  a  number  of  seats  of 
japanned  mason-work,  in  a  style  peculiar  to 
Spanish  countries.  There  were  steps  cut  in 
the  face  of  the  bank,  overhung  with  droop- 
ing shrubs,  and  leading  to  the  water's  edge. 

k2 


196  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

I  had  noticed  a  small  skiff  moored  under  the 
willows,  where  these  steps  went  down  to  the 
water. 

From  this  point  only,  could  you  see  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  enclosure.  The  view 
was  magnificent,  and  commanded  the  wind- 
ing of  the  Del  Norte  for  a  distance  of  miles. 

The  country  outside  seemed  wild  and  un- 
inhabited. Nearly  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
range,  the  beautiful  frondage  of  the  cotton- 
wood  groves  covered  the  landscape,  and  cast 
its  soft  shadows  on  the  river.  Southward, 
away  near  the  horizon's  edge,  a  single  spire 
glanced  over  the  tops  of  the  trees.  This 
was  the  church  of  El  Paso  del  Norte,  whose 
vine-clad  hills  could  be  seen  rising  against 
the  distant  background  of  the  sky.  Along 
the  east  towered  the  Rocky  Mountains — the 
mysterious  chain  of  the  Organos,  whose 
dark  summit  lake,  with  its  ebbing  tides, 
inspires  the  lone  hunter  with  a  superstitious 
terror.     To  the  west,  low  down  and  dimly 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  197 

seen,  were  the  twin  ranges  of  the  Mimbres, 
— those  mountains  of  gold — whose  desert 
passes  rarely  echo  the  tread  of  a  human 
foot.  Even  the  reckless  trapper  turns  aside, 
when  he  approaches  that  unknown  land,  that 
stretches  northward  from  the  Gila — the 
land  of  the  Apache,  and  the  cannibal 
Navajo!  *  *  *  * 

Evening  after  evening,  we  sought  the 
grove  of  cottonwoods ;  and,  seated  upon  one 
of  the  benches,  together  watched  the  glow- 
ing sunset.  At  this  time  of  the  day  we 
were  ever  alone — I  and  my  little  companion. 

I  have  called  her  my  little  companion, 
thouo^h  I  thouo^ht  at  this  time,  that  she  had 
suddenly  grown  to  a  larger  stature,  as- 
suming the  form  and  outlines  of  a  woman ! 
In  my  eyes,  she  was  a  child  no  longer. 
Her  form  had  become  more  developed- — 
her  bosom  rose  higher  in  its  gentle  undu- 
lations— and  her  movements  appeared  to 
me,    womanlike    and    commanding.     Her 


198  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

colour  too  seemed  heightened;  and  a  ra- 
diant brilliance  sported  over  her  features. 
The  love-light,  streaming  from  her  large 
brown  eyes,  added  to  their  liquid  lustre. 
There  was  a  change  of  mind  and  body.  It 
was   the  mystic    transformation   of    love. 

She  was  under  the  influence  of  its  god ! 
*  *  *  * 

One  evening,  as  usual,  we  sat  under  the 
solemn  shadow  of  the  grove.  We  had 
brought  with  us  the  guitar  and  bandolon ; 
but,  after  a  few  notes  had  been  struck,  the 
music  was  forgotten ;  and  the  instruments 
lay  upon  the  grass  at  our  feet.  We  loved  to 
listen  to  the  music  of  our  own  voices.  We 
preferred  the  utterance  of  our  own  thoughts, 
to  the  sentiments  of  any  song,  however 
sweet.  There  was  music  enough  around 
us — the  hum  of  the  wild  bee  as  it  bid  fare- 
well to  the  closing  corolla — the  "  whoop"  of 
the  gruya  in  the  distant  sedge,  and  the  soft 
cooing  of  the  doves  as  they  sat  in  pairs 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  199 

upon  the  adjacent  branches — like  us  whis- 
pering their  mutual  loves. 

Autumn  had  now  painted  the  woods,  and 
the  frondage  was  of  every  hue.  The  sha- 
dows of  the  tall  trees  dappled  the  surface 
of  the  water,  as  the  stream  rolled  silently 
on.  The  sun  was  far  down,  and  the  spire 
of  El  Paso  gleamed  like  a  golden  star,  under 
the  parting  kiss  of  his  beams.  Our  eyes 
wandered,  and  rested  upon  the  ghttering 
vane. 

"  The  church !"  half  soliloquized  my  com- 
panion,  ^'  I  hardly  know  what  it  is  like — it 
is  so  long  since  I  saw  it." 

"  How  long?" 

"  Oh  !  many — many  years — I  was  very 
young  then." 

"  And  you  have  not  been  beyond  these 
walls  since  then  ?" 

"  Oh  !  yes.  Papa  has  taken  us  down  the 
river  in  the  boat — mama  and  myself — often 
— but  not  lately." 


200  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  And  have  you  no  wash  to  go  abroad 
through  those  gay  woods  ?" 

"I  do  not  desire  it — I  am  contented 
here." 

"  But  will  you  always  be  contented  here?' 

"  And  why  not,  Enrique  ?  When  you 
are  near  me,  why  should  I  not  be  happy  ?" 

"  But  when—" 

A  dark  shadow  seemed  to  cross  her 
thoughts.  Benighted  with  love,  she  had 
never  reflected  on  the  probability  of  my 
leaving  her ;  nor  indeed  had  I.  Her  cheeks 
became  suddenly  pale;  and  I  could  see  the 
agony  gathering  in  her  eyes,  as  she  fixed 
them  upon  me.     But  the  words  were  out. 

"  — when  I  must  leave  you  ?  " 

She  threw  herself  on  my  breast  with  a 
short  sharp  scream,  as  though  she  had  been 
stung  to  the  heart ;  and  in  an  impassioned 
voice,  cried  aloud : 

"  Oh  !  my  God — my  God  !  leave  me  ? 
leave  me?   0,  you  will  not  leave  me  ?   You 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  201 

who  have  taught  me  to  love !  0  Enrique  ! 
why  did  you  tell  me  that  you  loved  me  ? 
yfhj  did  you  teach  me  to  love  1 " 

"  Zoe  !" 

"'Enrique — Enrique  !    say  you  will  not 
leave  me  ?  " 

"Never!    Zoe  —  I   swear   it  —  never  — 
never  !  " 

I   fancied   at  this  moment  I  heard  the 
stroke  of  an   oar  ;  but  the  wild  tumult  of 
my  feelings,  and  the  close  embrace  of  my 
betrothed — who  in  the  transport  of  reaction 
had    twined   her    arms    around   me — pre- 
vented  me  from   rising   to   look   over  the 
bank.     It   was  the  plunge  of  the  osprey, 
thought  I ;  and  dismissing  the  thought,  I 
yielded  myself  to  the  long  and  rapturous 
kiss.     I  was  raising  my  head  again,  when 
an    object,     appearing    above     the   bank, 
caught  my  eye.     It  was  a  black  sombrero 
with  its  golden  band.     I  knew  the  wearer 
at  a  glance — Seguin ! 

k3 


202  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

In  a  moment,  he  was  beside  us. 

"  Papa  ! ''  exclaimed  Zoe,  rising  up  and 
reaching  forward  to  embrace  him. 

The  father  put  her  to  one  side — at  the 
same  time  tightly  grasping  her  hand  in  his. 
For  a  moment  he  remained  silent,  bending 
his  eyes  upon  me  with  an  expression  I  can- 
not depict.  There  was  in  it  a  mixture  of 
reproach,  sorrow,  and  indignation.  I  had 
risen  to  confront  him,  but  I  quailed  under 
that  singular  glance,  and  stood  abashed  and 
silent. 

"  And  this  is  the  way  you  have  thanked 
me  for  saving  your  life  ?  A  brave  return, 
good  sir — what  think  you  ?  " 

I  made  no  reply. 

"  Sir !"  continued  he,  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  emotion,  '^you  have  deeply  wronged 
me." 

''  I  know  it  not ;  I  have  no^  wronged  you.'' 

"  What  call  you  this  ?  trifling  mth  my 
child!'' 


THE   SCALP'HUNTERS.  203 

"Trifling !"  I  exclaimed, roused  to  boldness 
by  the  accusation. 

"  Aye,  trifling !  Have  you  not  won  her 
afi*ections?'^ 

"  I  won  theoi  fairly." 

"  Pshaw !  sir.  This  is  a  child,  not  a 
woman.  Won  them  fairly !  What  can  she 
know  of  love  ?" 

"  Papa !  I  do  know  love.  I  have  felt  it  for 
many  days.  Do  not  be  angry  with  Enrique, 
for  I  love  him — 0  papa — in  my  heart,  I 
love  him  !" 

He  turned  to  her,  with  a  look  of  astonish- 
ment. 

*'  Hear  this !"  he  exclaimed,  **  0  God !  my 
child— my  child!" 

His  voice  stung  me,  for  it  was  full  of 
sorrow. 

"  Listen,  sir,"  I  cried,  placing  myself 
directly  before  him.  "I  have  won  the 
afiections  of  your  daughter.  I  have  given 
mine  in  return.     I  am  her  equal  in  rank,  as 


204  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

she  is  mine.     "What  crime  then  have  I  com- 
mitted? Wherein  have  I  wronged  you  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  for  some  moments  without 
making  any  reply. 

"You  would  marry  her,  then?"  he  said 
at  length,  with  an  evident  change  in  his 
manner. 

"  Had  I  permitted  our  love  thus  far,  with- 
out that  intention,  I  should  have  merited 
your  reproaches.  I  should  have  been  '  tri- 
fling '  as  you  have  said." 

"  Marry  me !"  exclaimed  Zoe,  with  a  look 
of  bewilderment. 

"  Listen !  poor  child !  she  knows  not  the 
meaning  of  the  word!" 

''  Aye,  lovely  Zoe,  I  will ;  else  my  heart, 
like  yours,  will  be  wrecked  for  ever — 0 
sir—" 

"  Come,  sir,  enough  of  this.  You  have 
won  her  from  herself — you  have  yet  to  win 
her  from  me.  I  will  sound  the  depth  of 
your  affection.  I  will  put  you  to  the  proof — " 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  205 

"  Put  me  to  any  proof!" 

"  We  shall  see — come  !  let  us  in.  Here, 
Zoe!" 

And,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  he  led  her 
toward  the  house.     I  followed  close  behind. 

As  we  passed  through  a  clump  of  wild 
orange  trees,  the  path  narrowed;  and  the 
father,  letting  go  her  hand,  walked  on  ahead. 
Zoe  was  between  us;  and  as  we  reached  the 
middle  of  the  grove,  she  turned  suddenly; 
and,  laying  her  hand  upon  mine,  whispered 
in  a  trembling  voice ;  "  Enrique — tell  me — 
what  is  '  to  inarry  ?  '  " 

"  Dearest  Zoe !  not  now — it  is  too  difficult 
to  explain — another  time — I — " 

"  Come,  Zoe !  your  hand,  child !" 

"  Papa,  I  am  coming  I" 


206        '  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER   XVIL 


AN   AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


I  WAS  alone  with  my  host  in  the  apart- 
ment I  had  hitherto  occupied.  The  females 
had  retired  to  another  part  of  the  house ; 
and  I  noticed  that  Seguin,  on  entering,  had 
looked  to  the  door — turning  the  bolt ! 

What  terrible  proof  was  he  going  to  exact 
of  my  faith — of  my  love  ?  Was  he  about  to 
take  my  life?  Or  bind  me  by  some  fearful 
oath — this  man  of  cruel  deeds?  Dark  sus- 
picions shot  across  my  mind ;  and  I  sat  silent, 
but  not  without  emotions  of  fear. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  207 

A  bottle  of  wine  was  placed  between  us; 
and  Seguin,  pouring  out  two  glasses,  asked 
me  to  drink.  This  courtesy  assured  me. 
"  But  how  if  the  wine  be  poi — ?"  He  swal- 
lowed his  own  glass,  before  the  thought  had 
fairly  shaped  itself. 

"  I  am  wronging  him,"  thought  I.  "  This 
man,  with  all,  is  incapable  of  an  act  of 
treachery  like  that." 

I  drank  up  the  wine.  It  made  me  feel 
more  composed  and  tranquil. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  he  opened  the 
conversation  with  the  abrupt  interrogatory : 

"  What  do  you  know  of  me?" 

'*  Your  name  and  calling;  nothing  more." 

"  More  than  is  guessed  at  here ;"  and  he 
pointed  significantly  to  the  door.  "  Who 
told  you  thus  much  of  me?" 

"  A  friend,  whom  you  saw  in  Santa  Fe." 

"  Ah!  St.  Yrain;  a  brave,  bold  man.  I 
met  him  once  in  Chihuahua.  Did  he  tell 
you  no  more  of  me  than  this  ?" 

"  No.     He  promised  to  enter  into  parti- 


208  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS* 

culars  concerning  you,  but  the  subject  was 
forgotten — the  caravan  moved  on,  and  we 
were  separated." 

"  You  heard,  then,  that  I  was — Seguin — 
the  scalp-hunter?  that  I  was  employed  by 
the  citizens  of  El  Paso  to  hunt  the  Apache 
and  Navajo?  and  that  I  was  paid  a  stated 
sum  for  every  Indian  scalp  I  could  hang 
upon  their  gates?     You  heard  all  this?" 

"  I  did.'^ 

"  It  is  true." 

I  remained  silent. 

"  Now  sir,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause. 
"  Would  you  marry  my  daughter — the  child 
of  a  wholesale  murderer?" 

"  Your  crimes  are  not  hers.  She  is  in- 
nocent, even  of  the  knowledge  of  them,  as 
you  have  said.  You  may  be  a  demon  ;  she 
is  an  angel." 

There  was  a  sad  expression  on  his  counte- 
nance, as  I  said  this. 

"  Crimes — demon  " — he  muttered,  half  in 
soliloquy.    ''  Aye,  you  may  well  think  this — 


THE   SCALP -HUNTERS.  209 

SO  judges  the  world.  You  have  heard  the 
stories  of  the  mountain  men  in  all  their  red 
exaggeration.  You  have  heard  that,  during 
a  treaty,  I  invited  a  village  of  the  Apache 
to  a  banquet,  and  poisoned  the  viands — 
poisoned  the  guests,  man,  woman,  and  child 
— and  then  scalped  them!  You  have  heard 
that  I  induced — to  pull  upon  the  drag-rope 
of  a  cannon — two  hundred  savages,  who 
knew  not  its  uses ;  and  then  fired  the  piece, 
loaded  with  grape,  mowing  down  the  row  of 
unsuspecting  wretches!  These,  and  other 
inhuman  acts,  you  have  no  doubt  heard  of  ?" 

"  It  is  true.  I  have  heard  these  stories 
among  the  mountain  hunters;  but  I  knew 
not  whether  to  believe  them." 

"  Monsieur,  they  are  false, — all  false  and 
unfounded." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this.  I 
could  not  now  believe  you  capable  of  such 
barbarities." 

"  And  yet,  if  they  were  true,  in  all  their 
horrid  details,  they  would  fall  far  short  of 


210  The  scalp-hunters. 

the  cruelties  that  have  been  dealt  out  by 
the  savage  foe  to  the  inhabitants  of  this 
defenceless  frontier.  If  you  knew  the  his- 
tory of  this  land  for  the  last  ten  years ;  its 
massacres  and  its  murders;  its  tears  and  its 
burnings;  its  rapes  and  spoliations;  whole 
provinces  depopulated ;  villages  given  to 
the  flames ;  men  butchered  on  their  own 
hearths ;  women — beautiful  women — carried 
into  captivity  to  satisfy  the  lust  of  the  de- 
sert robber.  Oh  God!  and  I  too  have 
sh.ared  wrongs  that  will  acquit  me  in  your 
eyes,  perhaps  in  the  eyes  of  Heaven !" 

The  speaker  buried  his  face  in  his  hands, 
and  leant  forward  upon  the  table.  He  was 
evidently  suffering  from  some  painful  recol- 
lection.    After  a  moment  he  resumed. 

"  I  would  have  you  listen  to  a  short  his- 
tory of  my  life." 

I  signified  my  assent ;  and  after  filling  and 
drinking  another  glass  of  wine,  he  proceeded. 

"  I  am  not  a  Frenchman,  as  men  suppose. 
I  am  a  Creole, — a  native  of  New  Orleans. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  21 1 

My  parents  were  refugees  from  St.  Domingo ; 
where,  after  the  black  revolution,  the  bulk 
of  their  fortune  was  confiscated  by  the 
bloody  Christophe. 

"  I  was  educated  for  a  civil  engineer;  and, 
in  this  capacity,  I  was  brought  out  to  the 
mines  of  Mexico,  by  the  owner  of  one  of 
them,  who  knew  my  father.  I  was  young 
at  the  time;  and  I  spent  several  years 
employed  in  the  mines  of  Zacatecas  and 
San  Luis  Potosi. 

"  I  had  saved  some  money  out  of  my  pay; 
and  I  began  to  think  of  opening  upon  my 
own  account. 

"  Rumours  had  long  been  current  that 
rich  veins  of  gold  existed  upon  the  Gila,  and 
its  tributaries.  The  washings  had  been  seen, 
and  gathered  in  these  rivers ;  and  the  mother 
of  gold, — the  milky  quartz-rock  cropped  out 
every  where  in  the  desert  mountains  of  this 
wild  region. 

"  I  started  for  this  country  with  a  select 
party ;  and,  after  traversing  it  for  weeks,  in 


212  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  Mimbres  mountains,  near  the  head  waters 
of  the  Gila,  I  found  the  precious  ore  in  its 
bed.  I  established  a  mine ;  and  in  five  years 
was  a  rich  man. 

"I  remembered  the  companion  of  my  youth 
— -the  gentle,  the  beautiful  cousin,  who  had 
shared  my  confidence,  and  inspired  me  with 
my  first  passion.  With  me,  it  was  first  and 
last;  it  was  not,  as  is  often  the  case  under 
similar  circumstances,  a  transient  thing. 
Through  all  my  wanderings  I  had  remem- 
bered and  loved  her.  Had  she  been  as  true 
to  me? 

"  I  determined  to  assure  myself;  and, leav- 
ing my  afikirs  in  the  hands  of  my  mayoral^ 
I  set  out  for  my  native  city. 

"Adele  had  been  true;  and  I  returned, 
bringing  her  with  me. 

"  I  built  a  house  in  Valverde — the  nearest 
inhabited  district  to  my  mine. 

"  Valverde  was  then  a  thriving  place — it  is 
now  a  ruin,  which  you  may  have  seen  in 
your  journey  down. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  213 

"  In  this  place  we  lived  for  years,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  wealth,  and  happiness.  1 
look  back  upon  these  days  as  so  many  ages 
of  bliss.  Our  love  was  mutual,  and  ardent; 
and  we  were  blessed  with  two  children,  both 
girls.  The  youngest  resembled  her  mother — 
the  other,  1  have  been  told,  was  more  like 
myself.  We  doted,  I  fear  too  much,  on  these 
pledges.  We  were  too  happy  in  their  posses- 
sion. 

"  At  this  time  a  new  governor  was  sent  to 
Santa  Fe;  a  man  who — by  his  wantonness 
and  tyranny — has,  since  then,  ruined  the 
province.  There  has  been  no  act  too 
vile,  no  crime  too  dark  for  this  human 
monster. 

"  He  offered  fair  enough  at  first;  and  was 
feasted  in  the  houses  of  the  ncos  through 
the  valley.  As  I  was  classed  among  these, 
I  was  honoured  with  his  visits,  and  fre- 
quently. He  resided  principally  at  Albu- 
querque ;  and  grand  fetes  were  given  at  his 
palace,  to  which  my  wife  and  I  were  invited 


214  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

as  special  guests.  He  in  return  often  came 
to  our  house  in  Yalverde,  under  pretence  of 
visiting  the  different  parts  of  the  province. 

''I  discovered,  at  length,  that  his  visits 
were  solely  intended  for  my  wife — to  whom 
he  had  paid  some  flattering  attentions. 

"  I  will  not  dwell  on  the  beauty  of  Adele, 
at  this  time.  You  may  imagine  that  for 
yourself ;  and.  Monsieur,  you  may  assist 
your  imagination, by  allowing  it  to  dwell  on 
those  graces,  you  appear  to  have  discovered 
in  her  daughter ;  for  the  little  Zoe  is  a  type 
of  what  her  mother  was. 

"At  the  time  I  speak  of,  she  was  still 
in  the  bloom  of  her  beauty.  The  fame 
of  that  beauty  was  on  every  tongue ;  and  had 
piqued  the  vanity  of  the  wanton  tyrant. 
For  this  reason  I  became  the  object  of  his 
friendly  assiduities. 

"  I  had  divined  this ;  but  confiding  in  the 
virtue  of  my  wife,  I  took  no  notice  of  his 
conduct.  No  overt  act  of  insult  as  yet 
claimed  my  attention. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  215 

'*  Returning  on  one  occasion  from  a  long 
absence  at  the  mines,  Aclele  informed  me, 
what,  through  delicacy,  she  had  hitherto 
concealed,  of  insults  received  from  his  Ex- 
cellency at  various  times,  but  particularly 
in  a  visit  he  had  paid  her  during  my  absence. 

"  This  was  enough  for  Creole  blood.  I 
paired  to  Albuquerque ;  and  on  the  public 
piazza,  in  presence  of  the  multitude,  I  chas- 
tised the  insulter. 

"  I  was  seized  and  thrown  into  a  prison, 
where  I  lay  for  several  weeks.  AYhen  I  was 
freed,  and  sought  my  home  again,  it  was 
plundered  and  desolate !  The  wild  Navajo 
had  been  there — my  household  gods  were 
scattered  and^broken — and  my  child,  0  God  ! 
my  little  Adele,  was  carried  captive  to  the 
mountains !" 

*'  And  your  wife? — your  other  child?" 
1  inquired,  eager  to  know  the  rest. 

"They  had  escaped.  In  the  terrible  conflict 
— for  my  poor  peons  battled  bravely — my 
wife,  with  Zoe  in  her  arms,  had  rushed  out, 


216  THE    SCALP-IIUNTERS. 

and  hidden  in  a  cave  that  was  in  the  gar- 
den. I  found  them  in  the  ranche  of  a 
vaquero  in  the  woods — whither  they  had 
wandered." 

"  And  your  daughter  Adele — have  you 
heard  aught  of  her  since?" 

"  Yes — yes — I  will  come  to  that  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  My  mine,  at  the  same  time,  was  plun- 
dered and  destroyed ;  many  of  the  workmen 
were  slaughtered  before  they  could  escape; 
and  the  work  itself,  with  my  fortune,  be- 
came a  ruin. 

"  With  some  of  the  miners,  who  had  fled, 
and  others  of  Velverde,  who — like  me — had 
suffered,  I  organised  a  band,  and  followed 
the  savage  foe ;  but  our  pursuit  was  vain  ; 
and  we  turned  back,  many  of  us  broken  in 
health  and  heart. 

*'  Oh  !  Monsieur,  you  cannot  know  what 
it  is  to  have  thus  lost  a  favourite  child  !  you 
cannot  understand  the  agony  of  the  bereaved 
father!" 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  217 

The  speaker  pressed  his  head  between  his 
hands,  and  remained  for  a  moment  silent. 
His  countenance  bore  the  indications  of 
heart-rending  sorrow. 

"  My  story  will  soon  be  told  up  to  the 
present  time.     Who  knows  the  end? 

''For  years,  I  hung  upon  the  frontiers  of  the 
Indian  country  hunting  for  my  child.   I  was 
aided  by  a  small  band^  most  of  them  unfortu- 
nates like  myself,  who  had  lost  wife  or  daugh- 
ter in  a  similar  manner.    But   our   means 
became  exhausted,  and  despair  wore  us  out. 
The  sympathies  of  my  companions  grew  old 
and  cold.  One  after  another  gave  up.  The  go- 
vernment of  New  Mexico  offered  us  no  aid. 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  suspected  then — 
it  is  now  known — that  the  governor  himself 
was  in  secret  league  with  the  Navajo  chiefs. 
He  was  to  leave  them  unmolested;  while 
they,  on  their  side,  promised  to  plunder  only 
his  enemies/ 

"  On  learning  this  terrible  secret,  I  saw 

VOL.  I.  L 


218  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

the  hand  that  had  dealt  me  the  blow.  Stung 
by  the  disgrace  I  had  put  upon  him,  as  well 
as  by  my  wife's  scorn,  the  villain  was  not 
slow  to  avenge  himself. 

"  Since  then,  his  life  has  been  twice  in  my 
power;  but  the  taking  of  it  would,  most 
probably,  have  forfeited  my  own ;  and  I 
had  objects  for  which  to  live.  I  may  yet 
find  a  reckoning  day  for  him. 

"  I  have  said  that  my  band  melted  away. 
Sick  at  heart,  and  conscious  of  danger  in 
New  Mexico,  I  left  the  province,  and  crossed 
the  Jornada  to  El  Paso.  Here  for  a  while 
I  lived,  grieving  for  my  lost  child. 

"  I  was  not  long  inactive.  The  frequent 
forays  made  by  the  Apaches  into  Sonora 
and  Chihuahua  had  rendered  the  government 
more  energetic  in  the  defence  of  the  fron- 
tier. The  presidios  were  repaired  and  gar- 
risoned with  more  efficient  troops  ;  and  a 
band  of  rangers  organised,  whose  pay  was 
proportioned  to  the  number  of  scalps  they 
might  send  back  to  the  settlements ! 


THE   SCALP-HUNTEES.  219 

"I  was  offered  the  command  of  this  strange 
guerilla ;  and  in  the  hope  that  I  might  yet 
recover  my  child,  I  accepted  it — I  became 
a  scalp-hunter! 

"  It  was  a  terrible  commission  ;  and  had 
revenge  alone  been  my  object,  it  would  long 
since  have  been  gratified.  Many  a  deed  of 
blood  have  we  enacted — many  a  scene 
of  retaliatory  vengeance  have  we  passed 
through. 

"  I  knew  that  my  captive  daughter  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Navajoes.  I  had  heard  so 
at  various  times,  from  prisoners  whom  I  had 
taken ;  but  I  was  always  crippled  for  want 
of  strength  in  men  and  means.  Revolution 
after  revolution  kept  the  States  in  poverty 
and  civil  warfare ;  and  our  interests  were  ne- 
glected or  forgotten.  With  all  my  exer- 
tions, I  could  never  raise  a  force  sufficient 
to  penetrate  that  desert  country  north  of 
the  Gila,  in  which  lie  the  towns  of  the 
savage  Navajoes.'* 

l2 


220  THE   SCALP-HUNTEES. 


''  And  you  think 


*'  Patience  !  I  shall  soon  finish.  My  band 
is  now  stronger  than  ever.  I  have  received 
certain  information,  by  one  just  escaped 
from  a  captivity  among  the  Navajoes — that 
the  warriors  of  both  tribes  are  about  to  pro- 
ceed southward.  They  are  mustering  all 
their  strength,  with  the  intention  of  making 
a  grand  foray — even,  as  we  have  heard,  to 
the  gates  of  Durango.  It  is  my  design, 
then,  to  enter  their  country  while  they  are 
absent,  and  search  for  my  daughter." 
"  And  you  think  she  still  lives?" 
"  I  know  it.  The  same  who  brought 
me  this  news — and  who,  poor  fellow!  has 
left  his  scalp  and  ears  behind  him — saw  her 
often.  She  is  grown  up  ;  and  is,  he  says,  a 
sort  of  queen  among  them;  possessed  of 
strange  powers  and  privileges.  Yes — she 
still  lives  ;  and  if  it  be  my  fortune  to  recover 
her,  then  will  this  tragic  scene  be  at  end.  I 
will  ffo  far  hence." 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  221 

I  had  listened  with  deep  attention  to  the 
strange  recital.  All  the  disgust,  with  which 
my  previous  knowledge  of  this  man's  cha- 
racter had  inspired  me,  vanished  from  my 
mind ;  and  I  felt  for  him  compassion — aye, 
admiration.  He  had  suffered  much.  Suf- 
fering atones  for  crime ;  and,  in  my  sight,  he 
was  justified.  Perhaps  I  was  too  lenient  in 
my  judgment.  It  was  natural  I  should  be  so. 

When  the  revelation  was  ended,  I  was 
filled  with  emotions  of  pleasure.  I  felt  a 
vivid  joy  to  know,  that  she  was  not  the  off- 
spring of  the  demon  I  had  deemed  him. 

He  seemed  to  divine  my  thoughts,  for 
there  was  a  smile  of  satisfaction — I  might 
say  triumph — on  his  countenance,  as  he 
leaned  across  the  table  to  refill  the  wine. 

^'  Monsieur,  my  story  must  have  wearied 
you.     Drink ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  as  we 
emptied  the  glasses. 

"  And  now,  sir,  you  know  the  father  of 


222  THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS. 

your  betrothed — at  least  somewhat  better 
than  before.  Are  you  still  in  the  mind  to 
marry  her  ?  " 

"  0,  sir !  she  is  now,  more  than  ever,  to 
me  a  sacred  object." 

"  But  you  must  win  her — as  I  have  said 
— from  me.'' 

"  Then,  sir,  tell  me  how.  I  am  ready  for 
any  sacrifice  that  may  be  within  my  power 
to  make." 

"  You  must  help  me  to  recover  her  sister." 

'-'  Willingly." 

"  You  must  go  with  me  to  the  Desert  ?  " 

"  I  will." 

"  Enough.  We  start  to-morrow."  And 
he  rose,  and  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"At  an  early  hour?"  I  inquired,  half 
fearing  that  I  was  about  to  be  denied  an 
interview  with  her,  whom  I  now  more  than 
ever  longed  to  embrace." 

"  By  daybreak,"  he  replied,  not  seeming  to 
heed  my  anxious  manner. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  223 

"  I  must  look  to  my  horse  and  arms," 
said  I,  rising  and  going  towards  the  door, 
in  hopes  of  meeting  her  without. 

"  They  have  been  attended  to — Gode  is 
there.  Come,  boy !  She  is  not  in  the  hall. 
Stay  where  you  are.  I  will  get  the  arms 
you  want.  Adele!  Zoe!  0,  Doctor,  you 
are  returned  with  your  weeds?  It  is  well. 
We  journey  to-morrow.  Adele,  some  coffee, 
love !  and  then  let  us  have  some  music.  Your 
guest  leaves  you  to-morrow." 

The  bright  form  rushed  between  us  with 
a  scream ! 

"  No — no — no — no!"  she  exclaimed,  turn- 
ing from  one  to  the  other,  with  the  wild 
appeal  of  a  passionate  heart. 

"  Come,  little  dove,"  said  the  father,  taking 
her  by  the  hands,  ''do  not  be  so  easily 
fluttered.  It  is  but  for  a  short  time.  He  will 
return  again." 

"  How  long,  papa?  How  long,  Enrique?" 

"But  a  very  short  while.  It  will  be 
longer  to  me,  than  to  you,  Zoe." 


224  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"Oh!  no~no;  an  hour  will  be  a  long 
time.  How  many  hours  do  you  think, 
Enrique  ?" 

''  Oh !  We  shall  be  gone  days,  I  fear." 

"  Days !   0  papa !    0  Enrique !  days !" 

**Come,  little  chit — they  will  soon  pass. 
Go!  Help  your  mama  to  make  the  coffee." 

"  0  papa !  days — long  days — they  will 
not  soon  pass  when  I  am  alone." 

"  But  you  will  not  be  alone.  Your 
mama  will  be  with  you." 

"Ah!" 

And  with  a  sigh,  and  an  air  of  abstrac- 
tion, she  departed  to  obey  the  command  of 
her  father.  As  she  passed  out  at  the  door, 
she  again  sighed  audibly. 

The  doctor  was  a  silent  and  wondering 
spectator  to  this  last  scene  ;  and  as  her 
figure  vanished  into  the  hall,  I  could  hear 
him  muttering  to  himself ; 

"Oja!  Poor  leetle  freilen  !  I  thot  as 
mosh." 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  225 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

UP   THE   DEL   NORT:^. 

I  WILL  not  distress  you  with  a  parting 
scene.  We  were  in  our  saddles  before  the 
stars  had  died  out,  and  riding  along  the 
sandy  road. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  house,  the 
path  angled,  striking  into  thick,  heavy 
timber.  Here  I  checked  my  horse,  allow- 
ing my  companions  to  pass ;  and,  standing 
in  the  stirrup,  looked  back.  My  eye  wan- 
dered along  the  old  grey  walls,  and  sought 
the  azoiea.     Upon  the    very    edge    of  the 

L  3 


226  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

parapet,  outlined  against  the  pale  light 
of  the  aurora,  was  the  object  I  looked  for. 
I  could  not  distinguish  the  features,  but  I 
easily  recognised  the  oval  curvings  of  the 
figure,  cut  like  a  dark  medallion  against  the 
sky. 

She  was  standing  near  one  of  the  yuca 
palm  trees  that  grew  up  from  the  azote  a. 
Her  hand  rested  upon  its  trunk,  and  she  bent 
forward,  straining  her  gaze  into  the  dark- 
ness below.  Perhaps  she  saw  the  waving  of 
a  kerchief — perhaps  she  heard  her  name, 
and  echoed  the  parting  prayer  that  was  sent 
back  to  her  on  the  still  breath  of  the  morn- 
ing. If  so,  her  voice  was  drowned  by  the 
tread  of  my  chafing  horse,  that,  wheeling 
suddenly,  bore  me  off  into  the  sombre  sha- 
dows of  the  forest. 

I  rode  forward,  turning  at  intervals  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  those  lovely  outlines,  but 
from  no  other  point  was  the  houes  visible. 
It  lay  buried  in  the  dark  majestic  woods. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  227 

I  could  only  see  the  long  bayonets  of  the 
picturesque  palmillas ;  and  our  road  now 
descending  among  hills,  these  too  were  soon 
hidden  from  my  view. 

Dropping  the  bridle,  and  leaving  my 
horse  to  go  at  will,  I  fell  into  a  train  of 
thoughts  at  once  pleasant  and  painful. 

I  knew  that  I  had  imbibed  the  love  of  my 
life — that  henceforward  in  it  all  my  hopes 
would  centre,  and  from  it  would  spring  my 
highest  motives.  I  had  just  reached  man- 
hood ;  and  I  was  not  ignorant  of  the  truth, 
that  a  pure  love  like  this  is  the  best  guide 
to  our  too-erring^  natures — the  best  rein  to 
curb  their  wild  wanderings.  I  was  indebted 
for  this  knowledge  to  him  who  had  taught 
me  my  earliest  lessons;  and  as  his  experi- 
ence had  already  more  than  once  stood  me 
in  stead,  I  believed  him  in  this.  I  have  since 
proved  the  teaching  true. 

I  knew  that  I  had  inspired  this  young 
creature  with  a  passion  deep  and  ardent  as 


228  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

my  own — perhaps  more  vital ;  for  my  heart 
had  passed  through  other  affections,  while 
hei's  had  never  throbbed  with  any,  save 
the  subdued  solicitudes  of  a  graceful  child- 
hood. She  had  never  known  emotion. 
Love  was  her  first  strong  feeling — her  first 
passion.  Would  it  not,  thus  enthroned,  reign 
over  all  other  thoughts  in  her  heart's  king- 
dom ?  She,  too,  so  formed  for  love — so  like 
its  mythic  goddess ! 

These  reflections  were  pleasant.  But 
the  picture  darkened,  as  I  turned  from 
looking  back  for  the  last  time ;  and  some- 
thing whispered  me — some  demon  it  was — 
'*  You  may  never  see  her  more." 

The  suggestion,  even  in  this  hypothetical 
form,  was  enough  to  fill  my  mind  with  dark 
forebodings ;  and  I  began  to  cast  my  thoughts 
upon  the  future.  I  was  going  upon  no 
party  of  pleasure,  from  which  I  might  return 
at  a  fixed  hour.  Dangers  were  before  me 
— the  dangers  of  the  Desert ;  and  I  knew 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  229 

that  these  were  of  no  ordinary  character. 
In  our  plans  of  the  previous  night,  Seguin 
had  not  concealed  the  perils  of  our  expe- 
dition. These  he  had  detailed,  before  ex- 
acting my  final  promise  to  accompany  him. 
Weeks  before,  I  would  not  have  regarded 
them.  They  would  only  have  lured  me  on 
to  meet  them.  Now,  my  feelings  were  dif- 
ferent, for  I  believed  that  in  my  life,  there 
was  another's.  \^Tiat  then  if  the  demon 
has  whispered  truly  ?  I  may  never  see  her 
more!  It  was  a  painful  thought;  and  I 
rode  on,  bent  in  the  saddle,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  its  bitterness. 

But  I  was  once  more  upon  the  back  of 
my  favourite  Moro,  who  seemed  to  "know 
his  rider ;"  and  as  his  elastic  body  heaved 
beneath  me,  my  spirit  answered  his,  and 
began  to  resume  its  wonted  buoyancy. 

After  awhile,  I  took  up  the  reins;  and, 
shortening  them  in  my  hands,  spurred  on 
after  my  companions.     ^ 


230  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

Our  road  lay  up  tlie  river,  crossing  tlie 
shallow   ford   at    intervals,    and    winding 
through  the  bottom-lands,  that  were  heavily 
timbered.    The  path  was  difficult  on  account 
of  the  thick  underwood;  and  although  the 
trees  had  once  been  "  blazed"  for  a  road, 
there  were  no  signs  of  late  travel  upon  it,  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  solitary  horse-tracks. 
The  country  appeared  wild  and  uninhabited. 
This  was  evident,   from  the  frequency  with 
which  deer  and  antelope  swept  across  our 
path,  or  sprang  out  of  the  underwood  close 
to  our  horses'  heads.     Here  and  there,   our 
path  trended  away  from  the  river,  crossing 
its  numerous   "  loops."     Several  times  we 
passed  large  tracts  where  the  heavy  timber 
had  been  felled  and  "  clearings"  had  existed. 
But  this  must  have  been  long  ago,  for  the 
land,  that  had  been  furrowed  by  the  plough, 
was  now  covered  with  tangled  and  almost  im- 
penetrable thickets.     A  few  broken  and  de- 
caying logs,  or  crumbling  walls  of  the  adohe^ 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  231 

were  all  that  remained  to  attest  where  the 
settlers'  "  rancho"  had  stood. 

We  passed  a  ruined  church,  with  its  old 
turrets  dropping  by  piecemeal.  Piles  of 
adohe  lay  around,  covering  the  gi^ound  for 
acres.  A  thriving  village  had  stood  here. 
Where  was  it  now  ?  Where  were  the  busy 
gossips  ?  A  wild  cat  sprang  over  the  briar- 
laced  walls ;  and  made  off  into  the  forest. 
An  owl  flew  sluggishly  up  from  the  crum- 
bling cupola,  and  hovered  around  our  heads 
— uttering  its  doleful  "  woo-hoo-a,"  that 
rendered  the  desolation  of  the  scene  more 
impressive.  As  w^e  rode  through  the  ruin  a 
dead  stiUness  surrounded  us,  broken  only 
by  the  hooting  of  the  night-bird,  and  the 
"  cranch-cranch"  of  our  horses'  feet  upon 
the  fragments  of  pottery  that  covered  the 
deserted  streets. 

But  where  were  they  who  had  once  made 
these  walls  echo  with  their  voices?  Who 
had  knelt  under  the  sacred  shadow  of  that 


232  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

once  hallowed  pile?  They  were  gone;  but 
where?  and  when?  and  Avhy? 

I  put  these  questions  to  Seguin ;  and  was 
answered  thus  briefly : 

"  The  Indians." 

The  savage  it  was,  with  his  red  spear, 
and  scalping-knife— his  bow  and  his  battle- 
axe — his  brand,  and  his  poisoned  arrows. 

"  The  Navajoes?"  I  inquired. 

"  Navajo  and  Apache." 

"  But  do  they  come  no  more  to  this 
place?" 

A  feeling  of  anxiety  had  suddenly  en- 
tered my  mind.  I  thought  of  our  proxi- 
mity to  the  mansion  we  had  left.  I  thought 
of  its  unguarded  walls.  I  waited  Avith  some 
impatience  for  an  answer. 

"  No  more,''  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  And  why?"  I  inquired. 

"  This  is  our  territory;"  he  answered 
significantly."  You  are  now,  Monsieur,  in 
a  country  where  live  strange  fellows, — you 


THE    SCALP-nUNTERS.  233 

shall  see.      Woe  to  the  Apache,  or  Navajo, 
who  may  stray  into  these  woods !" 

As  we  rode  forward,  the  country  became 
more  open;  and  we  caught  a  gUmpse  of  high 
bluffs  trending  north  and  south  on  both 
sides  of  the  river.  These  bluffs  converged, 
till  the  river  channel  appeared  to  be  com- 
pletely barred  up  by  a  mountain !  This 
was  only  an  appearance.  On  riding  farther, 
we  found  ourselves  entering  one  of  those 
fearful  gaps — canons  as  they  are  called — 
so  often  met  with  in  the  table  lands  of 
tropical  America. 

Through  this  the  river  foamed,  between  two 
vast  cliffs  a  thousand  feet  in  height — whose 
profiles,  as  you  approached  them,  suggested 
the  idea  of  angry  giants,  separated  by  some 
almighty  hand,  and  thus  left  frowning  at 
each  other !  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  awe  that 
one  looked  up  the  face  of  these  stupendous 
cliffs,  and  I  felt  a  shuddering  sensation,  as 
I  neared  the  mighty  gate  between  them. 


234  THE   SCALP-HUKTERS. 

"  Do  you  see  that  point?"  asked  Seguin, 
indicating  a  rock  that  jutted  out  from  the 
highest  ledge  of  the  chasm.  I  signified  in 
the  affirmative,  for  the  question  was  ad- 
dressed to  myself. 

"  That  is  the  leap  you  were  so  desirous  of 
taking.  We  found  you  dangling  against  yon- 
der rock." 

"  Good  God !"  I  ejaculated,  as  my  eyes 
rested  upon  the  dizzy  eminence.  My  brain 
grew  giddy,  as  I  sat  in  my  saddle,  gazing 
upward  ;  and  I  was  fain  to  ride  onward. 

"  But  for  your  noble  horse,"  continued 
my  companion;  "the  doctor  here  would 
have  been  stopping  about  this  time  to  hypo- 
thecate upon  your  bones.  Ho!  Moro! 
beautiful  Moro !" 

"  Oh !  mein  Got !  Ya,  ya !"  assented  the  bo- 
tanist, looking  up  against  the  precipice  with 
apparently  a  feeling  of  awe,  such  as  I  felt 
myself. 

Seguin  had  ridden  alongside  me,  and  was 


THE    sa\LP-HUNTERS.  235 

patting  my  horse  on  the  neck,  with  expres- 
sions  of  admiration. 

"  But  why?"  I  asked,  the  remembrance 
of  our  first  interview  now  occurring  to  me, 
"  why  were  you  so  eager  to  possess  him?" 

"  A  fancy." 

"Can  I  not  understand  it?  I  think  you 
said  then  that  I  could  not?" 

"  0  yes,  quite  easily,  Monsieur.  I  intended 
to  steal  my  own  daughter ;  and  I  wanted,  for 
that  purpose,  to  have  the  aid  of  your  horse." 

"  But  how?  " 

'•It  was  before  J  had  heard  the  news  of 
this  intended  expedition  of  our  enemy.  As 
I  had  no  hopes  of  obtaining  her  other- 
wise, it  was  my  design  to  have  entered  their 
country  alone,  or  with  a  tried  comrade,  and 
by  stratagem  to  have  carried  her  off.  Their 
horses  are  swift,  yet  far  inferior  to  the  Arab, 
as  you  may  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing. 
With  such  an  animal  as  that,  I  would  have 
been  comparatively  safe,  unless  hemmed  in  or 


236  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

surrounded ;  and  even  then  I  might  have  got 
off  with  a  few  scratches.  I  intended  to  have 
disguised  myself,  and  entered  their  town  as 
one  of  their  own  warriors.  I  have  long  been 
master  of  their  language." 

"  It  would   have   been  a  perilous  enter- 
prise." 

"  True— it  was  a  dernier  resort ;  and  only- 
adopted  because  all  other  efforts  had  failed 
■ — after  years  of  yearning,  deep-craving  of 
the  heart.  I  might  have  perished.  It  was  a 
rash  thought ;  but  I,  at  that  time,  entertained 
it  fully." 

"  I  hope  we  will  succeed  now." 

"  I  have  high  hopes.  It  seems  as  if  some 
overruling  providence  was  now  acting  in 
my  favour.  This  absence  of  her  captors — 
and  besides,  my  band  has  been  most  oppor- 
tunely strengthened,  by  the  arrival  of  a 
number  of  trappers  from  the  eastern  plains. 
The  beaver  skins  have  fallen  according  to 
their  phraseology,  to  a  '  plew  a  plug ;'    and 


THE    SCALP-HUNTEES.  237 

they  find    '  red-skin'   pays  better.      Ah !  I 
hope  this  will  soon  be  over." 

And  he  sighed  deeply  as  he  uttered  the 
last  words. 

We  were  now  at  the  entrance  of  the  gorge, 
and  a  shady  clump  of  cotton  woods  invited 
us  to  rest. 

"  Let  us  noon  here,"  said  Seguin.  , 
We  dismounted,  and  ran  our  animals  out 
on  their  trailropes  to  feed.  Then,  seating 
ourselves  on  the  soft  grass,  we  drew  forth  the 
viands  that  had  been  prepared  for  our 
journey. 


238  THE  SCALP-HUNTERS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GEOGRAPHY   AND   GEOLOGY. 

We  rested  above  an  hour  in  the  cool  shade, 
while  our  horses  refreshed  themselves 
on  the  "  grama"  that  grew  luxuriantly 
around.  We  conversed  about  the  sin  ovular 
region  in  which  we  were  travelling — singu- 
lar in  its  geography,  its  geology,  its  botany 
and  its  history — singular  in  all  respects. 

I  am  a  traveller,  as  I  might  say,  by  pro- 
fession. I  felt  an  interest  in  learning  some- 
thing of  the  wild  countries  that  stretched 
for    hundreds   of  miles   around  us;   and  I 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  239 

knew  there  was  no  man  living  so  capable 
of  being  my  informant,  as  him  with  whom  I 
then  conversed. 

My  journey  down  the  river  had  made  me 
but  little  acquainted  with  its  features.  At 
that  time  as  I  have  already  related,  there  was 
fever  upon  me;  and  my  memory  of  objects 
was  as  though  I  had  encountered  them  in 
some  distorted  dream. 

My  brain  was  now  clear;  and  the  scenes 
through  which  we  were  passing — here  soft 
and  south-like, — there  wild,  barren,  and  pic- 
turesque—forcibly  impressed  my  imagination. 

The  knowledge,  too,  that  parts  of  this 
region  had  once  been  inhabited  by  the  fol- 
lowers of  Cortez— as  many  a  ruin  testified — 
that  it  had  been  surrendered  back  to  its 
ancient  and  savage  lords — and  the  inference 
that  this  surrender  had  been  brought  about 
by  the  enactment  of  many  a  tragic  scene 
— induced  a  train  of  romantic  thought, 
which  yearned  for  gratification  in  a  know- 
ledge of  the  realities  that  gave  rise  to  it. 


240  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

Seguin  was  communicative.  His  spirits 
were  high.  His  hopes  were  buoyant.  The 
prospect  of  again  embracing  his  long-lost 
child  imbued  him,  as  it  were,  with  new  life. 
He  had  not,  he  said,  felt  so  happy  for  many 
years. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  he,  in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion I  had  put,  "  there  is  little  known  of  this 
whole  region,  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the 
Mexican   settlements.     They  who  once  had 
the  opportunity  of  recording  its  geographical 
features,  have  left  the  task  undone.     They 
were  too  busy  in  the   search  for  gold ;  and 
their  weak  descendants,  as  you  see,  are  too 
busy   in  robbing  one   another  to   care  for 
aught    else.       They  know  nothing   of  the 
country  beyond  their   own   borders  ;    and 
these  are  every  day  contracting  upon  them. 
All  they  know  of  it  is  the  fact  that  thence 
come   their  enemies,  Avhom  they  dread,  as 
children  do  ghosts  or  wolves. 

"  They  are  now,"  continued  Seguin,  '*  near 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  241 

the   centre  of    the  continent — in  the  very 
heart  of  the  American  Saara." 

*'But/'  said  I,  interrupting  him,  ^' we 
cannot  be  more  than  a  day's  ride  south  of 
New  Mexico — that  is  not  a  desert— it  is  a 
cultivated  country  ?  " 

"  New  Mexico  is  an  oasis — nothing  more. 
The  desert  is  around  it  for  hundreds  of 
miles — nay,  in  some  directions  you  may 
travel  a  thousand  miles  from  the  Del  Norte 
without  seeing  one  fertile  spot.  New 
Mexico  is  an  oasis,  which  owes  its  existence 
to  the  irrigating  waters  of  the  Del  Norte. 
It  is  the  only  settlement  of  white  men,  from 
the  frontiers  of  the  Mississippi  to  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific  in  California.  You  approached 
it  by  a  desert,  did  you  not?" 

"  Yes.  As  we  ascended  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi towards  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
country  became  gradually  more  sterile. 
For  the  last  three  hundred  miles  or  so,  we 
could  scarcely  find  grass  or  water  for  the 

VOL.  I.  M 


242  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS- 

sustenance  of  our  animals.  But  is  it  thus 
north  and  south  of  the  route  we  travelled?" 
'^  North  and  south  for  more  than  a  thou- 
sand miles — from  the  plains  of  Texas  to  the 
lakes  of  Canada,  along  the  whole  base  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains — and  half  way  to 
the  settlements  on  the  Mississippi.  It  is 
a  treeless,  herbless  land." 

"To  the  west  of  the  mountains?" 
"  Fifteen  hundred  miles  of  desert — that  is 
its  length,  by  at  least  half  as  many  miles  of 
breadth .     The  country  to  the  west  is  of  a 
different  character.     It  is  more  broken  in 
its  outlines,  more  mountainous,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, more  sterile  in  its  aspect.  The  volcanic 
fires   have  been   more   active  there ;    and 
though  that  may  have  been  thousands  of 
years  ago,  the  igneous  rocks  in  many  places 
look  as  if  freshly  upheaved.      No  vegeta- 
tion— no  climatic  action  has  sensibly  changed 
the  hues  of  the  lava  and  scoriae  that  in  some 
places  cover  the  plains  for  miles.     I  say  no 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  243 

climatic  action,  for  there  is  but  little  of  that 
in  this  central  region.'* 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  What  I  mean  is,  that  there  is  but  little 
atmospheric  change.  It  is  one  uniform 
drought ;  it  seldom  storms  or  rains.  I  know 
some  districts  where  a  drop  of  rain  has  not 
fallen  for  years." 

"  And  can  you  account  for  that  pheno- 
menon?" 

"  I  have  my  theory.  It  may  not  satisfy 
the  learned  meteorologist,  but  I  will  offer 
it  to  you." 

I  listened  with  attention,  for  I  knew  that 
my  companion  was  a  man  of  science,  as  of 
experience  and  observation  ;  and  subjects, 
of  the  character  of  those  about  which  we 
conversed,  had  always  possessed  great  in- 
terest for  me.     He  continued ; 

"  There  can  be  no  rain  without  vapour  in 
the  air.  There  can  be  no  vapour  in  the  air, 
without  water  on  the  earth  below  to  pro- 
lyl 2 


244  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

duce  it.     Here  there  is  no  great  body  of 
water. 

"  Nor  can  there  be.  The  whole  reojion  of 
the  desert  is  upheaved — an  elevated  table- 
land. We  are  now  nearly  6,000  feet  above 
V  sea  level.  Hence  its  springs  are  few ;  and,  by 
hydraulic  law,  must  be  fed  by  its  own  waters, 
or  those  of  some  region  still  more  elevated, 
which  does  not  exist  on  the  continent. 

''  Could  I  create  vast  seas  in  this  region, 
walled  in  by  the  lofty  mountains  that 
traverse  it— and  such  seas  existed  conse- 
quent to  its  formation— could  I  create  those 
seas,  without  giving  them  an  outlet,  not 
even  allowing  the  smallest  rill  to  drain 
them — in  process  of  time,  they  would  empty 
themselves  into  the  ocean,  and  leave  every 
thing  as  it  now  is — a  desert." 

"But  how?  by  evaporation?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  absence  of  evapo- 
ration would  be  the  cause  of  their  drainage ! 
I  believe  it  has  been  so." 


TflE   SCALP-HUNTERS-  245 

"  I  cannot  understand  that." 

"It  is  simply  thus.  This  region  pos- 
sesses, as  we  have  said,  great  elevation  ; 
consequently  a  cool  atmosphere,  and 
a  much  less  evaporating  power  than  that 
which  draws  up  the  water  of  the  ocean. 
Now  there  would  be  an  interchange  of 
vapour  between  the  ocean,  and  these  ele- 
vated seas,  by  means  of  winds  and  currents — 
for  it  is  only  by  that  means  that  any  water 
can  reach  this  interior  plateau.  That  inter- 
chanofe  would  result  in  favour  of  the  inland 
seas,  by  reason  of  their  less  evaporation,  as 
well  as  from  other  causes.  We  have  not  time, 
or  I  could  demonstrate  such  a  result.  I  beg 
you  will  admit  it,  then ;  and  reason  it  out  at 
your  leisure." 

"  I  perceive  the  truth :  I  perceive  it  at 
once." 

"  WTiat  follows,  then  ?  These  seas  would 
gradually  fill  up  to  overflowing.  The  first 
little  rivulet,  that  trickled  forth  from  their 
lipping  fulness,  would  be  the  signal  of  their 


246  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

destruction.  It  would  cut  its  channel  over 
the  ridge  of  the  lofty  mountain,  tiny  at  first, 
but  deepening  and  widening  with  each  suc- 
cessive shower,  until,  after  many  years — ages, 
centuries,  cycles  perhaps — a  great  gap,  such 
as  this — "  here  Seguin  pointed  to  the  GaJion^ 
"  and  the  dry  plain  behind  it,  would  alone 
exist  to  puzzle  the  geologist." 

''And  you  think  that  the  plains  lying 
among  the  Andes  and  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, are  the  dry  beds  of  seas?  '* 

"  I  doubt  it  not.  Seas  formed  after  the 
upheaval  of  the  ridges  that  barred  them 
in — formed  by  rains  from  the  ocean — at  first 
shallow ;  then  deepening,  until  they  had  risen 
to  the  level  of  their  mountain  barriers ;  and, 
as  I  have  described,  cut  their  way  back 
again  to  the  ocean." 

''  But  does  not  one  of  these  seas  still 
exist?" 

"The  great  Salt  Lake — it  does.  It  lies 
north-west  of  us.      Not  only    one,   but  a 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  247 

system  of  lakes,  springs,  and  rivers — both 
salt  and  fresh — and  these  have  no  outlet  to 
the  ocean !  They  are  barred  in  by  highlands 
and  mountains  of  themselves,  formino^  a 
complete  geographical  system." 

''  Does  not  that  destroy  your  theory?  " 
"  No.  The  basin,  in  which  this  pheno- 
menon exists,  is  on  a  lower  level  than  most 
of  the  desert  plateaus.  Its  evaporating 
power  is  equal  to  the  influx  of  its  own  rivers ; 
and,  consequently,  neutralises  their  effect  :-— 
that  is  to  say,  in  its  exchange  of  vapour 
with  the  ocean,  it  gives  as  much  as  it  re- 
ceives. This  arises  not  so  much  from  its 
low  elevation,  as  from  the  peculiar  dip  of 
the  mountains  that  guide  the  waters  into 
its  bosom.  Place  it  in  a  colder  position — 
ceteris  paribus— 2ind  in  time  it  would  cut  the 
canal  for  its  own  drainage.  So  with  the 
Caspian  Sea,  the  Aral,  and  the  Dead.  No, 
my  friend ;  the  existence  of  the  Salt  Lake 
supports  my  theory.    Around  its  shores  lies 


248  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

a  fertile  country ;  fertile  from  the  quick  re- 
turns of  its  own  waters  moistening  it  with 
rain.  It  exists  only  to  a  limited  extent ;  and 
cannot  influence  the  whole  region  of  the 
desert,  which  lies  parched  and  sterile,  on 
account  of  its  great  distance  from  the 
ocean." 

"  But  does  not  the  vapour  rising  from  the 
ocean  float  over  the  desert?" 

"  It  does^  I  have  said,  to  some  extent,  else 
there  would  be  no  rain  here.  Sometimes 
by  extraordinary  causes,  such  as  high 
winds,  it  is  carried  into  the  heart  of  the 
continent  in  large  masses.  Then  we  have 
storms,  and  fearful  ones  too.  But,  gene- 
rally, it  is  only  the  skirt  of  a  cloud,  so  to 
speak,  that  reaches  thus  far ;  and  that  com- 
bined "with  the  proper  evaporation  of  the 
region  itself— that  is  from  its  own  spring^ 
and  rivers,  yields  all  the  rain  that  falls  upon 
it.  Great  bodies  of  vapour,  rising  from  the 
Pacific  and  drifting  eastward,  first  impinge 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  249 

upon  the  Coast  range,  and  there  deposit  their 
waters ;  or  perhaps  they  are  more  highly 
heated,  and,  soaring  above  the  tops  of  these 
mountains,  travel  farther.  They  will  be 
intercepted  a  hundred  miles  farther  on  by 
the  loftier  ridges  of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  and 
carried  back,  as  it  were  captive,  to  the  o^ean, 
by  the  streams  of  the  Sacramento  and  San 
Joaquin.  It  is  only  the  skirt  of  these 
clouds — as  I  have  termed  it — that,  soaring 
still  higher,  and  escaping  the  attractive 
influence  of  the  Nevada,  floats  on,  and  falls 
into  the  desert  region.  What  then?  No 
sooner  has  it  fallen,  than  it  hurries  back  to 
the  sea,  by  the  Gila  and  Colorado,  to  rise 
again,  and  fertilize  the  slopes  of  the  Nevada; 
while  the  fragment  of  some  other  cloud 
drifts  its  scanty  supply  over  the  arid  uplands 
of  the  interior,  to  be  spent  in  rain  or  snow 
upon  the  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Hence  the  source  of  the  rivers  running  east 
and  west ;  and  hence  the  oases — such  as  the 

m3 


250  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  parks  "  that  lie  among  these  mountains. 
Hence  the  fertile  valleys  upon  the  Del  Nort6, 
and  other  streams  that  thinly  meander 
through  this  central  land. 

Vapour-clouds,  from  the  Atlantic,  un- 
dergo a  similar  detention  in  crossing  the 
Alleghany  range  ;  or  cooling — after  having 
circled  a  great  distance  round  the  globe — 
descend  into  the  valleys  of  the  Ohio  and 
Mississippi.  From  all  sides  of  this  great 
continent,  as  you  approach  its  centre,  fer- 
tility declines ;  and  only  from  the  want  of 
water.  The  soil  in  many  places,  where  there 
is  scarcely  a  blade  of  grass  to  be  seen,  pos- 
sesses all  the  elements  of  vegetation.  So 
the  Doctor  here  will  tell  you  ;  he  has  ana- 
lysed it." 

"  Ya!  ya!  dat  ish  true,"  quietly  affirmed 
the  Doctor. 

''  There  are  many  oases,"  continued  Se- 
guin  ;  ''  and,  where  water  can  be  used  to  irri- 
gate the  soil,  luxuriant  vegetation  is  the  con- 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  251 

sequence.  You  have  observed  this,  no  doubt, 
in  travelling  down  the  river;  and  such  was 
the  case  in  the  old  Spanish  settlements  on 
the  Gila/' 

^*  But  why  were  these  abandoned?"  I  in- 
quired, never  having  heard  any  reason  as- 
signed for  the  desertion  of  these  once 
flourishing  colonies. 

"  Why  I''  echoed  Seguin,  with  a  peculiar 
energy ;  "why !  Unless  some  other  race  than 
the  Iberian  take  possession  of  these  lands, 
the  Apache,  the  Navajo,  and  the  Comanche 
— the  conquered  of  Cortez  and  his  con- 
querors— will  yet  drive  the  descendants  of 
those  very  conquerors  from  the  soil  of 
Mexico  I  Look  at  Sonora  and  Chihuahua, 
half  depopulated  !  Look  at  New  Mexico — its 
citizens  living  by  sufferance  I  living,  as  it 
were,  to  till  the  land,  and  feed  the  flocks  for 
the  support  of  their  own  enemies,  who  levy 
their  black-mail  by  the  year !  But  come !  the 
sun  tells  us  we  must  on.    Come ! '' 

"  Mount !   we  can  go  tlirough,"  continued 


252  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

he.  *'  There  has  been  no  rain  lately,  and  the 
water  is  low — otherwise  we  should  have  fif- 
teen miles  of  a  ride  over  the  mountain 
yonder.  Keep  close  to  the  rocks!  Follow 
me!" 

And,  with  this  admonition,  he  entered 
the  Canon,  followed  by  myself,  Gode,  and 
the  Doctor. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  253 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 


It  was  still  early  in  the  evening,  when 
we  reached  the  camp — the  camp  of  the 
Scalp-hunters!  Our  arrival  was  scarcely- 
noticed.  A  single  glance  at  us,  as  we  rode 
in  amongst  the  men,  was  all  the  recognition 
we  received.  No  one  rose  from  his  seat,  or 
ceased  his  occupation.  We  were  left  to 
unsaddle  our  horses,  and  dispose  of  them, 
as  we  best  might ! 

I  was  wearied  with  the  ride,  having  been 
so  long  unused  to  the  saddle.     I  threw  my 


254  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

blanket  on  the  ground  ;  and  sat  down,  rest- 
ing my  back  against  the  stump  of  a  tree. 
I  could  have  slept,  but  the  strangeness  of 
every  thing  around  me  excited  my  imagi- 
nation; and,  with  feelings  of  curiosity,  I 
looked  and  listened. 

I  should  call  the  pencil  to  my  aid  to  give 
you  an  idea  of  the  scene ;  and  that  would 
but  faintly  illustrate  it.  A  wilder  and  more 
picturesque  coup-d^oeil  never  impressed  hu- 
man vision.  It  reminded  me  of  pictures,  I 
had  seen,  representing  the  bivouacks  of  bri- 
gands under  the  dark  pines  of  the  Abruzzi. 

I  paint  from  a  recollection  that  looks 
back  over  many  years  of  adventurous  life.  I 
can  give  only  the  more  salient  points  of  the 
picture.  The  petite  detail  is  forgotten  ;  al- 
though, at  that  time,  the  minutest  objects 
were  things  new  and  strange  to  my  eye,  and 
each  of  them  for  awhile  fixed  my  attention. 
I  afterwards  grew  familiar  with  them;  and, 
hence,  they  are  now  in  my  memory,  as  a 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  255 

multitude  of  other  things,  indistinct  from 
their  very  distinctness ! 

The  camp  was  in  a  bend  of  the  Del  Nort^ — 
in  a  glade— surrounded  by  tall  cotton  woods — 
whose  smooth  trunks  rose  vertically  out  of 
a  thick  underwood  of  palmettos,  and  Spanish 
bayonet.  A  few  tattered  tents  stood  in  the 
open  ground;  and  there  were  skin  lodges 
after  the  Indian  fashion.  But  most  of  the 
hunters  had  made  their  shelter  with  a 
buiFalo-robe  stretched  upon  four  upright 
poles.  There  were  "  lairs"  among  the  un- 
derwood— constructed  of  branches,  and 
thatched  with  the  palmated  leaves  of  the 
yuca,  or  with  reeds  brought  from  the  ad- 
jacent river. 

There  were  paths  leading  out  in  different 
directions,  marked  by  openings  in  the  foli- 
age. Through  one  of  these  a  green  meadow 
was  visible.  Mules  and  mustangs,  picketed 
on  long  trail-ropes,  were  clustered  over  it. 

Through  the  camp  were  seen  the  saddles, 


256  THE    SCALP'-HUNTERS. 

bridles,  and  packs — resting  upon  stumps 
or  hanging  from  the  branches.  Guns  leaned 
against  the  trees;  and  rusted  sabres  hung 
suspended  over  the  tents  and  lodges. 
Articles  of  camp  furniture — such  as  pans, 
kettles,  and  axes — ^littered  the  ground  in 
every  direction. 

Log  fires  were  burning.  Around  them 
sat  clusters  of  men.  They  were  not  seeking 
warmth,  for  it  was  not  cold.  They  were 
roasting  ribs  of  venison,  or  smoking  odd- 
fashioned  pipes.  Some  were  scouring  their 
arms  and  accoutrements. 

The  accents  of  many  languages  fell  upon 
my  ear.  I  heard  snatches  of  French,  Span- 
ish, English,  and  Indian.  The  exclama- 
tions were  in  character  with  the  appearance 
of  those  who  uttered  them.  "  Hilloa,  Dick ! 
hang  it,  old  boss — what  are  ye  'bout?" 
^'Sacre!  enfant  de  G^ce!"  "Carrambo!'* 
"  Pardieu,  Monsieur ! "  "  By  the  tarnal 
airthquake  !  "     "  Vaya  !    Hombre,  Yaya !  " 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  257 

"  Carajo !"  '^  By  Gosh  !"  "  Santissima  Ma- 
ria!"  "Sacr-r-re!" 

It  seemed  as  if  the  different  nations  had 
sent  representatives,  to  contest  the  supre- 
macy of  their  shibboleth. 

I  was  struck  with  three  groups.  A  par- 
ticular language  prevailed  in  each;  and 
there  was  a  homogeneousness  about  the 
costumes  of  the  men  composing  each.  That 
nearest  me  conversed  in  the  Spanish  lan- 
guage. They  were  Mexicans.  I  will  de- 
scribe the  dress  of  one,  as  I  remember  it. 

Calzo7ieroSy  of  green  velveteen.  These 
are  cut  after  the  fashion  of  sailor- trousers 
— short-waist — tight  round  the  hips,  and 
wide  at  the  bottoms,  where  they  are 
strengthened  by  black  leather,  stamped  and 
stitched  ornamentally.  The  outer  seams 
are  split  from  hip  to  thigh,  slashed  with 
braid,  and  set  with  rows  of  silver  castle- 
stops.  These  seams  are  open — for  the  even- 
ing is  warm — and  underneath  appear  the 


258  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

ccdzoncillos  of  white  muslin,  hanging  in  wide 
folds  around  the  ankles.  The  boot  is  of  calf- 
skin, tanned,  but  not  blackened.  It  is  red- 
dish, rounded  at  the  toe,  and  carries  a  spur 
at  least  a  pound  in  weight,  with  a  rowel 
three  inches  in  diameter !  The  spur  is  curi- 
ously fashioned,  and  fastened  to  the  boot 
by  straps  of  stamped  leather.  Little  bells 
— campanulas — hang  from  the  teeth  of  the 
rowels,  and  tinkle  at  the  slightest  motion  of 
the  foot !  Look  upward.  The  cakoneros  are 
not  braced,  but  fastened  at  the  waist  by  a 
silken  sash  or  scarf.  It  is  scarlet.  It  is 
passed  several  times  around  the  body,  and 
made  fast  behind ;  where  the  fringed  ends 
hang  gracefully  over  the  left  hip.  There  is  no 
vest.  A  jacket  of  dark  cloth,  embroidered 
and  tightly  fitting  ;  short  behind — a  la  Grec 
— leaving  the  shirt  to  puff  out  over  the  scarf. 
The  shirt  itself,  with  its  broad  collar  and 
flowered  front,  exhibits  the  triumphant  skill 
of  some  dark-eyed  pohlana.    Over  all  this, 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  259 

is  the  broad-brimmed  shadowy  sombrero— a 
heavy  hat  of  black  glaze,  with  its  thick  band 
of  silver  bullion.  There  are  tags  of  the 
same  metal,  stuck  in  the  sides— giving  it  an 
appearance  altogether  unique.  Over  one 
shoulder  is  hanging— half  folded— the  pic- 
turesque serape,  A  belt  and  pouch— an 
escopette  upon  which  the  hand  is  resting — 
a  waist-belt  with  a  pair  of  small  pistols  stuck 
under  it — a  long  Spanish  knife  suspended 
obliquely  across  the  left  hip — complete  the 
tout  ensemble  of  him,  whom  I  have  chosen  to 
describe. 

It  may  answer  as  a  characteristic  of  the 
dress  of  many  of  his  companions,  those  of 
the  group  that  was  nearest  me.  There  was 
variety  in  their  habiliments,  yet  the  na- 
tional costume  of  Mexico  was  traceable  in 
all.  Some  wore  leathern  calzoneros,  with 
a  spencer  or  jerkin  of  the  same  material, 
close  both  in  front  and  behind.  Some 
carried,  instead  of  the  pictured  serape,  the 
blanket  of  the  Navajoes,  with  its  broad  black 


260  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

stripes.  Suspended  from  the  shoulders  of 
others  hung  the  beautiful  and  graceful 
manga.  Some  were  moccasoned  ;  while  a 
few  of  the  inferior  men  wore  the  simple 
guar  ache — the  sandal  of  the  Aztecs. 

The  countenances  of  these  men  were 
swarth  and  savage-looking — their  hair  long, 
straight,  and  black  as  the  wing  of  a  crow ; 
while  both  beard  and  moustache  grew  wildly 
over  their  faces.  Fierce  dark  eyes  gleamed 
under  the  broad  brims  of  their  hats.  Few 
of  them  were  men  of  high  stature ;  yet  there 
was  a  litheness  in  their  bodies,  that  showed 
them  to  be  capable  of  great  activity.  Their 
frames  were  well  knit,  and  inured  to  fa- 
tigues and  hardship.  They  were  all,  or 
nearly  all,  natives  of  the  Mexican  border — 
frontiers-men  —  who  had  often  closed  in 
deadly  fight  with  the  Indian  foe.  They  were 
ciboleros,  vaqueros^  rancheros^  monteros ;  men, 
who  in  their  frequent  association  with  the 
mountain  men^  the  Gallic  and  Saxon  hunters 
'}  from  the  eastern  plains  had  acquired  a  degree 


THE   SCALP-HUNTEES.  261 

of  daring,  which  by  no  means  belongs  to  their 
own  race.  They  were  the  chivaky  of  the 
Mexican  frontier. 

They  smoked  cigarritos — rolling  them 
between  their  fingers  in  husks  of  maize. 
They  played  monte  on  their  spread  blankets, 
staking  their  tobacco.  They  cursed,  and 
cried  "  Carajo,"  when  they  lost,  and  thanks 
to  the  "  Santissima  virgen,"  when  the  cards 
were  pulled  out  in  their  favour ! 

Their  language  was  a  Spanish  patois — • 
their  voices  sharp  and  disagreeable. 

At  a  short  distance  from  these,  was  the 
second  group  that  attracted  my  attention. 
The  individuals  composing  this  were  alto- 
gether different  from  the  former.  They 
were  different  in  every  essential  point — in 
voice,  dress,  language,  and  phisiognomy. 
Theirs  was  the  Anglo-American  face,  at  a 
glance.  These  were  the  trappers — the  prairie 
hunters — the  mountain  men. 

Let  us  again  choose  a  type  that  may 
answer  for  a  description  of  all. 


262  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

He  stands,  leaning  on  his  long  straight 
rifle,  looking  into  the  fire.  He  is  six  feet 
in  his  moccasons;  and  of  a  build,  that  sug- 
gests the  idea  of  strength  and  Saxon  an- 
cestry. His  arms  are  like  young  oaks ;  and 
his  hand,  grasping  the  muzzle  of  his  gun, 
is  large,  fleshless,  and  muscular.  His 
cheek  is  broad  and  firm.  It  is  partially 
covered  by  a  bushy  whisker,  that  meets  over 
the  chin  and  fringes  all  around  the  lips.  It 
is  neither  fair  nor  dark ;  but  of  a  dull, 
brown  colour,  lighter  around  the  mouth, 
where  it  has  been  bleached  by  the  sun,  "  am- 
ber," and  water.  The  eye  is  grey,  or  bluish 
grey,  small,  and  slightly  crowed  at  the  cor- 
ner. It  is  well  set,  and  rarely  wanders.  It 
seems  to  look  into  you,  rather  than  at  you. 
The  hair  is  brown,  and  of  a  medium  length, 
(cut,  no  doubt,  on  his  last  visit  to  the  trad- 
ing post,  or  the  settlements) ;  and  the  com- 
plexion, although  dark  as  that  of  a  mulatto, 
is  only  so  from  tan.     It  was  once  fair— a 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS  263 

blonde.  The  countenance  is  not  unpre- 
possessing. It  might  be  styled  handsome. 
Its  whole  expression  is  bold,  but  good- 
humoured,  and  generous. 

The  dress  of  the  individual  described  is 
of  home  manufacture — that  is,  of  his  home, 
the  prairie,  and  the  wild  mountain  park — 
where  the  material  has  been  bought  by 
a  bullet  from  his  rifle.  It  is  the  work  of 
his  own  hands — unless  indeed  he  may  be 
one,  who,  in  his  moments  of  lassitude,  has 
shared  his  cabin  with  some  Indian  damsel, 
Sioux,  Crow,  or  Cheyenne. 

It  consists  of  a  hunting  shirt  of  dressed 
deer-skin,  smoked  to  the  softness  of  a  glove. 
Leggings  reaching  to  the  waist,  and  mocas- 
sons  of  the  same  material — the  latter  soled 
with  the  parfieche  of  the  buffalo.  The  shirt 
is  belted  at  the  waist,  but  open  at  the  breast 
and  throat,  where  it  falls  back  into  a  graceful 
cape  just  covering  the  shoulders.  Underneath 
is  seen  the  undershirt,  of  finer  material — 
the  dressed  skin  of  the  antelope,  or  the  fawn 


264  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

of  the  fallow  deer.  On  his  head  is  a  racoon 
cap,  with  the  face  of  the  animal  looking  to 
the  front ;  while  the  barred  tail  hangs  like  a 
plume  drooping  down  to  his  left  shoulder. 

His  accoutrements  are,  a  bullet  pouch 
made  from  the  undressed  skin  of  the  moun- 
tain cat,  and  a  huge  crescent-shaped  horn — 
upon  which  he  has  carved  many  a  strange 
souvenir.  His  arms  consist  of  a  long  knife, 
a  bowie,  and  a  heavy  pistol,  carefully  se- 
cured by  a  holster  to  the  leathern  belt 
around  his  waist.  Add  to  this  a  rifle  nearly 
five  feet  long,  taking  ninety  to  the  pound ; 
and  so  straight,  that  the  line  of  the  barrel 
scarcely  deflects  from  that  of  the  butt ! 

But  little  attention  has  been  paid  to  orna- 
ment in  either  his  dress,  arms,  or  equipments ; 
and  yet  there  is  a  gracefulness  in  the  hang 
of  his  tunic-like  shirt ;  a  stylishness  about 
the  fringing  of  the  cape  and  leggings ;  and  a 
jauntiness  in  the  set  of  that  coonskin  cap, 
that  shows  the  wearer  to  be  not  altogether 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  265 

unmindful  of  his  personal  appearance.  A 
small  pouch  or  case,  neatly  embroidered 
with  stained  porcupine  quills,  hangs  upon 
his  breast. 

At  intervals,  he  contemplates  this  with  a 
pleased  and  complacent  look.  It  is  his  pipe- 
holder — a  love-token  from  some  dark-eyed, 
dark-haired  damsel,  no  doubt,  like  himself, 
a  denizen  of  the  wild  wilderness.  Such  is 
the  tout  ensemble  of  a  mountain  trapper. 

There  were  many  around  him  whom 
I  have  described,  almost  similarly  attired 
and  equipped.  Some  wore  slouch  hats  of 
greyish  felt  ;  and  some  catskin  caps.  Some 
had  hunting  shirts  bleached  to  a  brighter 
hue,  and  broidered  with  gayer  colours. 
Others  looked  more  tattered  and  patched, 
and  smoky;  yet  in  the  costume  of  all 
there  was  enough  of  character  to  enable 
you  to  class  them.  There  was  no  possibi- 
lity of  mistaking  the  regular  '•''mountain 
man.'''' 

VOL.  L  N 


266  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

The  third  group,  that  attracted  ray  attention, 
was  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  spot  I  oc- 
cupied. I  was  filled  with  curiosity,  not  to 
say  astonishment,  on  perceiving  that  they 
were  Indians  ! 

"  Can  they  be  prisoners?"  thoughtl.  "No; 
they  are  not  bound.  There  are  no  signs  of 
captivity,  either  in  their  looks  or  gestures ; 
and  yet  they  are  Indians !  can  they  belong 
to   the  band,  fighting  against  —  ?" 

As  I  sat  conjecturing,  a  hunter  passed 
near  me. 

"  Who  are  these  Indians?"  I  asked,  indi- 
cating the  group. 

"  Delawares — some  Shawnee." 

These  then  were  the  celebrated  Delawares 
— descendants  of  that  great  tribe,  who  on  the 
Atlantic  shores  first  gave  battle  to  the  pale- 
faced  invader.  Theirs  has  been  a  wonderful 
history.  War  their  school,  war  their  wor- 
ship, war  their  pastime,  war  their  profes- 
sion !  They  are  now  but  a  remnant.  Their 
story  will  soon  be  ended ! 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  267 

I  rose  up ;  and  approached  them  with  a 
feeling  of  interest.  Some  of  them  were 
sitting  around  the  fire,  smoking  out  of 
curiously  carved  pipes  of  the  red  claystone. 
Others  strode  back  and  forth,  with  that  ma- 
jestic gait  for  which  the  "  forest "  Indian 
has  been  so  much  celebrated.  There  was  a 
silence  among  them,  that  contrasted  strangely 
with  the  jabbering  kept  up  by  their  Mexican 
allies.  An  occasional  question  put  in  a 
deep-toned  sonorous  voice — a  short  but  em- 
phatic reply — a  guttural  grunt — a  dignified 
nod — a  gesture  with  the  hand — and  thus 
they  conversed,  as  they  filled  their  pipe-bowls 
with  the  Hm-kin-ik^  and  passed  the  valued 
instruments  from  one  to  another. 

I  stood  gazing  upon  these  stoical  sons  of 
the  forest,  with  emotions  stronger  than 
curiosity ;  as  one  contemplates  for  the  first 
time  an  object  of  which  he  has  heard 
and  read  strange  accounts.  The  history 
of  their  wars  and  their  wanderings  were 

N  2 


268  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

fresh  in  my  memory.  Before  me  were  the 
actors  themselves — or  types  of  them — in  all 
their  truthful  reality,  in  all  their  wildpictu- 
resqueness.  These  were  the  men  who,  dri- 
ven from  their  homes,  by  the  Atlantic  border, 
yielded  only  to  fate — to  the  destiny  of  their 
race.  Crossing  the  Appalachian  range — they 
had  fought  their  way  from  home  to  home — 
down  the  steep  sides  of  the  Alleghany — along 
the  wooded  banks  of  the  Ohio,  into  the  heart 
of  the  "Bloody  Ground."  Still  the  pale 
face  followed  on  their  track,  and  drove  them 
onward — onward  to  the  setting  sun.  Red 
wars — Punic  faith — broken  treaties — year 
after  year,  thinned  their  ranks.  Still,  dis- 
daining to  live  near  their  white  conquerors, 
they  pushed  on — fighting  their  way  through 
tribes  of  their  own  race  and  colour,  thrice 
their  numbers!  The  forks  of  the  Osage 
became  their  latest  resting-place.  Here 
the  usurper  promised  to  guarantee  them 
a   home,   to  be   theirs  to  all  time.      The 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  269 

concession  came  too  late.  War  and  wan- 
dering had  grown  to  be  part  of  their  na- 
tures; and  with  a  scornful  pride,  they  dis- 
dained the  peaceful  tillage  of  the  soil.  The 
remnant  of  their  tribe  was  collected  on  the 
Osage ;  but  in  one  season  it  had  disappeared ! 
The  braves  and  young  men  wandered 
away,  leaving  only  the  old,  the  women,  and 
the  worthless  in  their  allotted  home !  Where 
have  they  gone  ?  Where  are  they  now  ?  He, 
who  would  find  the  Delawares,  must  seek 
them  on  the  broad  prairies — in  the  moun- 
tain parks — in  the  haunts  of  the  bear  and 
the  beaver — the  bighorn  and  the  buffalo. 
There  he  may  find  them,  in  scattered  bands, 
leagued  with  their  ancient  enemies,  the 
whites,  or  alone ;  trapping,  hunting,  fighting 
the  Yuta,  or  Rapaho,  the  Crow  or  Cheynne, 
the  Navajo  and  the  Apache. 

I  stood  gazing  upon  the  group,  with  feelings 
of  profound  interest — upon  their  features,  and 
their  picturesque  habiliments.     Though  no 


270  THE    SCALP-HUKTERS. 

two  of  them  were  dressed  exactly  alike,  there 
ivas  a  similarity  about  the  dress  of  all.  Most 
of  them  wore  hunting  shirts,  not  made  of 
deerskin — like  those  of  the    whites — but  of 
calico,  printed   in    bright  patterns.      This 
dress,  handsomely  fashioned    and    fringed, 
under  the  accoutrements  of  the  Indian  war- 
rior, presented  a  striking  appearance.    But 
that  which  chiefly  distinguished  the  costumes 
of  both  the  Delaware  and    Shawano,  from 
that   of  their  white  allies,   was  the   head- 
dress.    This  was,  in  iact,  a  turban,  formed 
by    binding    the    head    with   a   scarf    or 
kerchief  of    a   brilliant     colour — such    as 
may  be    seen     on    the     dark    Creoles    of 
Hayti.     In  the  group  before  me,  no  two  of 
these  turbans  were  alike,  yet  they  were  all  of 
a  similar  character.     The  finest  were  those 
made  by  the  chequered  kerchiefs  of  Madras. 
Plumes     surmounted     them,    of    coloured 
feathers,  from  the  wing  of  the  war  eagle,  or 
the  blue  plumage  of  the  gruya. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  271 

For  the  rest  of  their  costume,  they 
wore  deerskin  leggings  and  moccasons, 
nearly  similar  to  those  of  thfe  trappers. 
The  leggings  of  some  were  ornamented  by 
scalp  locks  along  the  outer  seam — exhi- 
biting a  dark  history  of  the  wearer's 
prowess !  I  noticed  that  their  moccasons  were 
pecuUar — differing  altogether  from  those 
worn  by  the  Indians  of  the  prairies.  They 
were  seamed  up  the  fronts,  without  braiding 
or  ornament ;  and  gathered  into  a  double  row 
of  plaits. 

The  arms  and  equipments  of  these  warrior 
men  were  like  those  of  the  white  hunters. 
They  have  long  since  discarded  the  bow ;  and 
in  the  management  of  the  rifle,  most  of  them 
can  "draw  ahead,"  and  hit  ''  plum  centre," 
with  any  of  their  mountain  associates.  In 
addition  to  the  firelock  and  knife,  I  noticed 
that  they  still  carried  the  ancient  weapon 
of  their  race — the  fearful  tomahawk. 

I    have     described    three    characteristic 


272  THE    SCALP-HU.NTERS. 

groups  that  struck  me  on  glancing  over  the 
camp  ground.  There  were  individuals  be- 
longing to'  neither  ;  and  others  partaking 
of  the  character  of  one  or  all.  There  were 
Frenchmen — Canadian  voyageurs —  strays 
of  tlie  North-west  company — wearing  white 
capotes;  and  chattering,  dancing,  and  sing- 
ing their  boat  songs  with  all  the  esprit  of 
their  race.  There  were  Pueblos — Indios 
manzos — clad  in  their  ungraceful  tilmas — 
and  rather  serving  than  associating  with 
those  around  them.  There  were  mulattoes, 
too;  and  negroes  of  a  jetty  blackness,  from 
the  plantations  of  Louisiana — who  had  ex- 
changed for  this  free  roving  life,  the  twisted 
'^  cowskin" '' of  the  overseer.  There  were 
tattered  uniforms — showing  the  deserters, 
who  had  wandered  from  some  frontier  post, 
into  this  remote  region.  There  were 
Kanakas  from  the  Sandwich  Isles,  who  had 
crossed  the  deserts  from  California.  There 
were  men  apparently  of  every  hue  and  clime 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  273 

and  tongue,  here  assembled — drawn  together 
by  the  accidence  of  life— by  the  instinct  of 
adventure— all  more  or  less  strange  indi- 
viduals of  the  strangest  band  it  has  ever 
been  my  lot  to  witness— ^Ag  hand  of  the 
Scalp-hunters  ! 


n3 


274  THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


SHAKP-SHOOTING. 


I  HAD  returned  to  my  blanket,  and  was 
about  to  stretch  myself  upon  it,  when  the 
whoop  of  a  "  gruya"  drew  my  attention. 
Looking  up,  I  saw  one  of  these  birds  flying 
towards  the  camp.  It  was  coming  through 
a  break  in  the  trees  that  opened  from  the 
river.  It  flew  low,  and  tempted  a  shot  with 
its  broad  wings,  and  slow  lazy  flight. 

A  report  rang  upon  the  air !  One  of  the 
Mexicans  had  fired  his  escopette;  but  the 
bird  flew  on,  plying  its  wings  with  more 
energy,  as  if  to  bear  itself  out  of  reach. 


THE    SCALP-PIUNTERS.  275 

There  was  a  laugh  from  the  trappers,  and 
a  voice  cried  out — 

"  Yur  cussed  fool !  d'  yur  think  'ee  kud 
hit  a  spread  blanket  wi'  that  beetle-shaped 
blunderbox?     Pish!" 

I  turned  to  see  who  had  delivered  this  odd 
speech.  Two  men  were  poising  their  rifles, 
bringing  them  to  bear  upon  the  bird.  One 
was  the  young  hunter  whom  I  have  de- 
scribed. The  other  was  an  Indian  whom  I 
had  not  seen  before. 

The  cracks  were  simultaneous :  and  the 
crane,  dropping  its  long  deck,  came  whirling 
down  among  the  trees,  where  it  caught  upon 
a  high  branch,  and  remained. 

From  their  position,  neither  party  knew 
that  the  other  had  fired.  A  tent  was  between 
them ;  and  the  two  reports  had  seemed  as 
one.     A  trapper  cried  out — 

"  Well  done,  Garey !    Lord  help  the  thing 
that's  afore  old  Kilbar's  muzzle,  when  you 
squints  through  her  hind  sights.*' 
The  Indian  just  then  stepped  round  the  tent. 


276  THE    SCALF'HUKTERS. 

Hearing  this  side  speech,  and  perceiving 
the  smoke  still  oozing  from  the  muzzle  of 
the  young  hunter's  gun,  he  turned  to  the 
latter  with  the  interrogation — 

"Did  you  fire,  sir  ?" 

This  was  said  in  well  accentuated  and 
most  un-Indian-like  English,  which  would 
have  drawn  my  attention  to  the  man,  had 
not  his  singularly  imposing  appearance 
riveted  me  already. 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  I  inquired  from  one  near 
me. 

"  Don't  know — fresh  arriv,"  was  the  short 
answer. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  is  a  stranger 
here  ?" 

"  Jest  so.  He  kumd  in  thar  awhile 
agone.  Don't  b'lieve  anybody  knows  him. 
I  guess  the  captain  does  ;  I  seed  them  shake 
hands." 

I  looked  at  the  Indian  with  increasing 
interest.     He  seemed  a  man  of  about  thirty 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  277 

years  of  age,  and  not  much  under  seven  feet  in 
height !  He  was  proportioned  like  an  Apollo ; 
and,  on  this  account,  appeared  smaller  than 
he  actually  was.  His  features  were  of  the 
Roman  type;  and  his  fine  forehead,  his 
aquiline  nosc  and  broad  jaw-bone,  gave  hira 
the  appearance  of  talent,  as  well  as  firmness 
and  energy.  He  was  dressed  in  a  hunting 
shirt,  leggings  and  moccasons  ;  but  all  these 
differed  from  anything  worn  either  by  the 
hunters,  or  their  Indian  allies.  The  shirt 
itself  was  made  out  of  the  dressed  hide  of 
the  red  deer ;  but  differently  prepared  to  that 
used  by  the  trappers.  It  was  bleached 
almost  to  the  whiteness  of  a  kid  glove  !  The 
breast — unlike  theirs — was  close,  and  beau- 
tifully embroidered  with  stained  porcupine 
quills.  The  sleeves  were  similarly  orna- 
mented ;  and  the  cape  and  skirts  were  trimmed 
with  the  soft,  snow-white  fur  of  the  ermine. 
A  row  of  entire  skins  of  that  animal  hung 
from    the   skirt   border,   forming  a  fringe 


278  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

both  graceful  and  costly.  But  the  most  sin- 
gular feature  about  this  man  was  his  hair.  It 
fell  loosely  over  his  shoulders,  and  swept 
the  ground  as  he  walked!  It  could  not 
have  been  less  than  seven  feet  in  length.  It 
was  black,  glossy,  and  luxuriant;  and  re- 
minded me  of  the  tails  of  those  great 
Flemish  horses,  I  had  seen,  in  the  funeral 
carriages  of  London. 

He  wore  upon  his  head  the  war-eagle 
bonnet,  with  its  full  circle  of  plumes — the 
finest  triumph  of  savage  taste.  This  mag- 
nificent head-dress  added  to  the  majesty  of 
his  appearance. 

A  white  bufi*alo  robe  hung  from  his  shoul- 
ders, with  all  the  graceful  draping  of  a 
toga.  Its  silky  fur  corresponded  to  the 
colour  of  his  dress,  and  contrasted  strikingly 
with  his  own  dark  tresses. 

There  were  other  ornaments  about  his 
person.  His  arms  and  accoutrements  were 
shining  with  metallic  brightness;   and  the 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  279 

stock  and  butt  of  his  rifle  were  richly  inlaid 
with  silver. 

I  have  been  thus  minute  in  my  descrip- 
tion, as  the  first  appearance  of  this  man  im- 
pressed me  with  a  picture  that  can  never  be 
effaced  from  my  memory.  He  was  the  heau 
ideal  of  a  picturesque  and  romantic  savage ; 
and  yet  there  was  nothing  savage  either  in 
his  speech  or  bearmg.  On  the  contrary, 
the  interrogation  which  he  had  just  ad- 
dressed to  the  trapper  was  put  in  the  po- 
litest manner.  The  reply  was  not  so  cour- 
teous. 

"  Did  I  fire?  Didn't  ye  hear  a  crack? 
Didn't  ye  see  the  thing  fall?*  Look  yonder !" 

Garey,  as  he  spoke,  pointed  up  to  the  bird. 

"  We  must  have  fired  simultaneously." 

As  the  Indian  said  this,  he  appealed  to  his 
gun,  which  was  still  smoking  at  the  muzzle. 

"  Look  hyar,  Injun!  whether  we  fired 
symultainyously,  or  extraneously,  or  cattaw- 
ampously,  aint  the  flappin  o'  a  beaver's  tail 


280  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

to  nie ;  but  I  tuk  sight  on  that  bird ;  I  hut 
that  bird ;  and  'twar  my  bullet  brought  the 
thing  down." 

"  I  think  I  must  have  hit  it  too,"  replied 
the  Indian,  modestly. 

"  That's  like,  with  that  ar  spangled  gim- 
crack,"  said  Garey,  looking  disdainfully  at 
the  other's  gun,  and  then  proudly  at  his  own 
brown  weather-beaten  piece — which  he  had 
just  wiped,  and  was  about  to  reload. 

"  Gimcrack  or  no,"  answered  the  Indian, 
"  she  sends  a  bullet  straighter  and  farther, 
than  any  piece  I  have  hitherto  met  with. 
I'll  warrant  she  has  sent  hers  through  the 
body  of  the  crane." 

"  Look  hyar,  mister ;  for  I  s'pose  we  must 
call  a  gentleman  '  mister'  who  speaks  so  fine 
an  looks  so  fine,  tho'  he  he's  an  Injun ;  its 
mighty  easy  to  settle  who  hut  the  bird. 
That  thing's  a  fifty,  or  tharabout's;  Kil- 
bar's  a  ninety.  'Taint  hard  to  tell  which 
has  plugged  the  varmint.     We'll  soon  see ;" 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  281 

and  so  saying,  the  hunter  stepped  off  toward 
the  tree,  on  which  hung  the  gruya,  high  up. 

"  How  are  ye  to  get  it  down?"  cried  one 
of  the  men,  who  had  stepped  forward  to  wit- 
ness the  settlement  of  this  curious  dispute. 

There  was  no  reply,  for  every  one  saw 
that  Garey  was  poising  his  rifle  for  a  shot. 
The  crack  followed ;  and  the  branch,  shivered 
by  his  bullet,  bent  downward  under  the 
weight  of  the  gruya !  But  the  bird,  caught 
in  a  double  fork,  still  stuck  fast  on  the 
broken  limb. 

A  murmur  of  approbation  followed  the 
shot.  These  were  men  not  accustomed  to 
hurrah  loudly  at  a  trivial  incident. 

The  Indian  now  approached,  having  re- 
loaded his  piece.  Taking  aim,  he  struck  the 
branch  at  the  shattered  point,  cutting  it 
clean  from  the  tree !  The  bird  fell  to  the 
ground,  amidst  expressions  of  applause  from 
the  spectators,  but  chiefly  from  the  Mexican 
and  Indian  hunters.     It  was  at  once  picked 


282  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

up  and  examined.  Two  bullets  had  passed 
through  its  body!  Either  would  have  killed 
it. 

A  shadow  of  unpleasant  feeling  was  vi- 
sible on  the  face  of  the  young  trapper.  In 
the  presence  of  so  many  hunters  of  every 
nation,  to  be  thus  equalled — beaten — in  the 
use  of  his  favourite  weapon — and  by  an 
"  Injun,"— still  worse  by  one  of  "  them  ar 
gingerbread  guns."  The  mountain  men 
have  no  faith  in  an  ornamented  stock  or  a 
big  bore.  Spangled  rifles,  they  say,  are  like 
spangled  razors,  made  for  selling  to  "green- 
horns." It  was  evident,  however,  that  the 
strange  Indian's  rifle  had  been  made  to  shoot 
as  well. 

It  required  all  the  strength  of  nerve,  which 
the  trapper  possessed,  to  conceal  his  chagrin. 
Without  saying  a  word,  he  commenced  wiping 
out  his  gun,  with  that  stoical  calmness  pe- 
culiar to  men  of  his  calling.  I  observed 
that  he  proceeded  to  load  with  more  than 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  283 

usual  care.  It  was  evident  that  he  would  not 
rest  satisfied  with  the  trial  already  made,  but 
would  either  beat  the  *' Injun"  or  be  him- 
self "  whipped  into  shucks."  So  he  declared, 
in  a  muttered  speech  to  his  comrades. 

His  piece  was  soon  loaded ;  and,  swinging 
her  to  the  hunter's  carry,  he  turned  to  the 
crowd — now  collected  from  all  parts  of  the 
camp. 

"  Thar's  one  kind  o'  shootin',''  said  he, 
"  that's  jest  as  easy  as  fallin'  off  a  log.  Any 
man  kin  do  it,  as  kin  look  straight  through 
hind-sights.  But  then  thar's  another  kind, 
that  ain't  so  easy  ;  it  needs  narve." 

Here  the  trapper  paused ;  and  looked 
toward  the  Indian,  who  was  also  re-loading. 

"  Look  hyar,  strenger  !"  continued  he,  ad- 
dressing the  latter.  *'  Have  ye  got  a  cum- 
marade  on  the  ground,  as  knows  yer  shootin'." 

The  Indian,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
answered  "  Yes." 

"  Kin  yer  cummarade  depend  on  yer  shot?" 


284  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

"  Oh !  I  think  so.  Why  do  you  wish  to 
know  that?  " 

"  Why — I'm  a  goin'  to  show  ye  a  shot  we 
sometimes  practise  at  Bent's  Fort,  jest  to 
tickle  the  greenhorns.  'Taint  much  o'  a 
shot,  nayther  ;  but  it  tries  the  narves  a 
little,  I  reckon.     Hoy!  Rube!  " 

"  D— n  yur !     What  do  'ee  want?  " 

This  was  spoken  in  an  energetic  and 
angry-like  voice,  that  turned  all  eyes  to  the 
quarter  whence  it  proceeded.  At  the  first 
glance,  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  in 
that  direction.  In  looking  more  carefully, 
among  the  logs  and  stumps,  an  indi- 
vidual was  discovered,  seated  by  one  of  the 
fires.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell 
that  it  was  a  human  body,  had  not  the  arms 
at  the  moment  been  in  motion.  The 
back  was  turned  toward  the  crowd,  and  the 
head  had  disappeared,  sunk  forward  over 
the  fire.  The  object,  from  where  we  were 
standing,  looked  more  like  the  stump  of  a 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  285 

Cottonwood,  dressed  in  dirt-coloured  buck- 
skin, than  the  body  of  a  human  being.  In 
getting  nearer,  and  round  to  the  front  of  it, 
it  was  seen  to  be  a  man — though  a  very- 
curious  one— holdino;  a  lono^  rib  of  deer-meat 
in  both  hands,  which  he  was  polishing  with 
a  very  poor  set  of  teeth. 

The  whole  appearance  of  this  individual 
was  odd  and  striking.  His  dress — if  dress 
it  could  be  called— was  simple  as  it  was 
savage.  It  consisted  of  what  might  have 
once  been  a  hunting  shirt,  but  which  now 
looked  more  like  a  leathern  bag  with 
the  bottom  ripped  open,  and  sleeves  sewed 
into  the  sides.  It  was  of  a  dirty-brown 
colour,  wrinkled  at  the  hollow  of  the  arms, 
patched  around  the  armpits,  and  greasy  all 
over:  it  was  fairly  "  caked"  with  dirt!  There 
was  no  attempt  at  either  ornament  or  fringe. 
There  had  been  a  cape;  but  this  had  evidently 
been  drawn  upon,  from  time  to  time,  for  patches 
and  other  uses,  until  scarcely  a  vestige  of  it 


286  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

remained.  The  leggings  and  moccasons  were 
on  a  par  with  the  shirt ;  and  seenned  to  have 
been  manufactured  out  of  the  same  hide. 
They     too      were     dirt -brown,     patched, 
wrinkled,  and  greasy.     They  did  not  meet 
each  other,  but  left  a  piece  of  the  ankle 
bare ;  and  that  also  was  dirt-brown,  like  the 
buckskin.     There  was  no  undershirt,  vest, 
or  other  garment  to  be  seen,  with  the  ex- 
ception of   a  close-fitting  cap,  which   had 
once  been  catskin  ;  but  thehair  was  all  worn 
off  it — leaving  a  greasy,  leathery-looking 
surface,   that  corresponded   well  with   the 
other  parts  of  the  dress.     Cap,  shirt,  leg- 
gings, and  moccasons,  looked  as  if  they  had 
never  been  stripped  off,  since  the   day  they 
were  first  tried  on;  and  that  might  have 
been  many  a  year  ago.  The  shirt  was  open — 
displaying  the  naked  breast  and  throat — and 
these,  as  well  as  the  face,  hands,  and  ankles, 
had  been  tanned  by  the  sun,  and  smoked 
by  the  fire,  to  the  hue  of  rusty  copper.  The 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  287 

whole  man — clothes  and  all — looked  as  if  he 
had  been  smoked  on  purpose  ! 

His  face  bespoke  a  man  of  sixty.  The 
features  were  sharp  and  somewhat  aquiline ; 
and  the  small  eye  was  dark,  quick,  and 
piercing.  His  hair  was  black  and  cut  short. 
His  complexion  had  been  naturally  bru- 
nette, though  there  was  nothing  of  the 
Frenchman  or  Spaniard  in  his  physiognomy. 
He  was  more  likely  of  the  black  Saxon 
breed. 

As  I  looked  at  this  man  (for  I  had  walked 
towards  him,  prompted  by  some  instinct  of 
curiosity),  I  began  to  fancy  that  there  was 
a  strangeness  about  him,  independent  of  the 
oddness  of  his  attire.  There  seemed  to  be 
something  peculiar  about  his  head — some- 
thino:  wantino^.  WTiat  was  it?  I  was  not 
long  in  conjecture.  When  fairly  in  front  of 
him,  I  saw  what  was  wanting.  It  was  his 
ears  ! 

This  discovery  impressed  me  with  a  feeling 


288  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

akin  to  awe.  There  is  something  awful  in 
a  man  without  his  ears.  It  suggests  some 
horrid  drama — some  terrible  scene  of  cruel 
vengeance.  It  suggests  the  idea  of  crime 
committed,  and  punishment  inflicted. 

These  thoughts  were  wandering  through 
my  mind,  when  all  at  once  I  remembered 
a  remark  which  Seguin  had  made  on  the 
previous  night.  This,  then,  thought  I,  is  the 
person  of  whom  he  spoke.  My  mind  was 
satisfied. 

After  making  answer  as  above,  the  old 
fellow  sat  for  some  time,  with  his  head 
between  his  knees— chewing,  mumbling,  and 
growling,  like  a  lean  old  wolf,  angry  at 
being  disturbed  in  his  meal. 

"  Come  hyar,  Rube !  I  want  ye  a  bit," 
continued  Garey,  in  a  tone  of  half  entreaty. 

*'And  so  'ee  will  want  me  a  bit;  this 
child  don't  move  a  d— d  peg,  till  he  has 
cleaned  this  hyur  rib — he  don't— now!  " 

"  Dog-gone  it  man!  make  haste  then," 
and  the  impatient  trapper  dropped  the  butt 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  289 

of  his  rifle  to  the  ground ;  and  stood  waiting 
in  sullen  silence. 

After  chewing,  and  mumbling,  and  grow- 
ling a  few  minutes  longer,  old  Rube — for 
that  was  the  name  by  which  the  leathery 
sinner  was  known — slowly  erected  his  lean 
carcase;  and  came  walking  up  to  the 
crowd. 

"  "What  do  'ee  want,  Billee?''  he  inquired, 
going  up  to  the  trapper. 

"  I  want  ye  to  hold  this,"  answered 
Garey,  offering  him  a  round  white  shell, 
about^the  size  of  a  watch ;  a  species,  of  which 
there  were  many  strewed  over  the  ground. 

"Is'tabet,  boyee?" 

''  No,  it  is  not." 

"  Aint  wastin'  yur  powder,  ar  yur." 

"I've  been  beat  shootin,"  replied  the 
trapper  in  an  under  tone,  "  by  that  ar 
Injun." 

The  old  man  looked  over,  to  where  the 
strange   Indian   was    standing    erect    and 

VOL.   I.  o 


290  THE   SCALP-HUNTERS. 

majestic,  in  all  the  pride  of  his  plumage. 
There  was  no  appearance  of  triumph  or 
swagger  about  him,  as  he  stood  leaning  on 
his  rifle,  in  an  attitude  at  once  calm  and 
dignified. 

It  was  plain  from  the  way  old  Eube  sur- 
veyed him,  that  he  hkd  seen  him  before — 
though  not  in  that  camp.  After  passing  his 
eyes  over  him  from  head  to  foot — and  there 
resting  them  a  moment — a  low  murmur 
escaped  his  lips,  which  ended  abruptly  in  the 
word  "  Coco." 

"  A  Coco  do  ye  think?"  inquired  the  other 
with  an  apparent  interest. 

"  Are  'ee  blind,  Billee?  Don't  'ee  see  his 
moccasson  ?" 

"  Yes,  you're  right,  but  I  was  in  thar 
nation  two  years  ago.  I  seed  no  sich  man 
as  that." 

"  He  w'ant  there." 

"  Wharthen?" 

"  Whur  thur's  no  great  show  o' redskins. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  291 

He  may  shoot  well ;  he  did  onecest  on  a  time 
— plum  centre." 

''  You  knew  him,  did  ye?" 

"  0-ee-es.  Onecest.  Putty  squaw, — 
hansum  gal.    Whur  do'ee  want  me  to  go?" 

I  thought  that  Garey  seemed  inclined  to 
carry  the  conversation  farther.  There  was 
an  evident  interest  in  his  manner,  when  the 
other  mentioned  the  "squaw."  Perhaps  he 
had  some  tender  recollection ;  but,  seeing  the 
other  preparing  to  start  off,  he  pointed  to  an 
open  glade,  that  stretched  eastward;  and 
simply  answered,  '*  Sixty." 

"  Take  care  o'  my  claws,  d'  yur  hear ! 
Them  Injuns  has  made  'em  scace  ;  this 
child  can't  spare  another." 

The  old  trapper  said  this,  with  a  flourish 
of  his  right  hand.  I  noticed,  that  the  little 
finger  had  been  chopped  off! 

"  Never  fear,  old  boss !"  was  the  reply ; 
and,  at  this,  the  smoky  carcase  moved  away, 


292  THE  SCALP-HUNTERS. 

with  a  slow  and  regular  pace,  that  showed  he 
was  measuring  the  yards. 

When  he  had  stepped  the  sixtieth  yard,  he 
faced  about,  and  stood  erect — placing  his 
heels  together.  He  then  extended  his  right 
arm — raising  it  until  his  hand  was  on  a  level 
with  his  shoulder — and,  holding  the  shell  in 
his  fingers,  flat  side  to  the  front,  shouted 
back — 

"  Now,  Bill-ee  shoot,  an  be  d — d  to  yur !" 

The  shell  was  slightly  concave — the  con- 
cavity turned  to  the  front.  The  thumb  and 
fino:er  reached  half  around  the  circumference 
— so  that  a  part  of  the  edge  was  hidden  ;  and 
the  surface,  turned  towards  the  marksman, 
was  not  larger  than  the  dial  of  a  common 
watch ! 

This  was  a  fearful  sight.  It  is  one  not  so 
common  among  the  mountain  men,  as  travel- 
lers would  have  you  believe.  The  feat  proves 
the  markman's  skill — first,  if  successful,  by 
showing  the  strength  and  steadiness  of  his 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  293 

nerves :  secondly,  by  the  confidence  which  the 
other  reposes  in  it,  thus  declared  by  stronger 
testimony  than  any  oath.  In  any  case,  the 
feat  of  holding  the  mark  is  at  least  equal  to 
that  of  hitting  it.  There  are  many  hunters 
willing  to  risk  taking  the  shot,  but  few  who 
care  to  hold  the  shell. 

It  was  a  fearful  sight;  and  my  nerves  tingled 
as  I  looked  on.  Many  others  felt  as  I.  No 
one  interfered.  There  were  few  present  who 
would  have  dared — even  had  these  two  men 
been  making  preparation  to  fire  at  each  other ! 
Both  were  "  men  of  mark"  among  their  com- 
rades—trappers of  the  first  class. 

Garey,  drawing  a  long  breath,  planted 
himself  firmly — the  heel  of  his  left  foot  oppo- 
site to,  and  some  inches  in  advance  of  the 
hollow  of  his  right.  Then,  jerking  up  his 
gun,  and  thro  win  o:  the  barrel  across  his  left 
palm,  he  cried  out  to  his  comrade ; 

"  Steady,  old  bone  an  sinyer !  hyar's  at 
ye!"  0  3 


294  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

The  words  were  scarcely  out,  when  the 
gun  was  levelled.  There  was  a  moment's 
deathlike  silence — all  eyes  looking  to  the 
mark.  Then  came  the  crack— and  the  shell 
was  seen  to  fly,  shivered  into  fifty  fragments ! 
There  was  a  cheer  from  the  crowd.  Old 
Eube  stooped  to  pick  up  one  of  the  pieces ; 
and,  after  examining  it  for  a  moment,  shouted 
in  a  loud  voice : 

'*  Plum  centre,  by  G— d!" 

The  young  trapper  had,  in  effect,  hit  the 
mark  in  the  very  centre — as  the  blue  stain  of 
the  bullet  testified. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  295 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


A     FEAT     A     LA     TELL. 


All  eyes  are  turned  upon  the  strange 
Indian.  During  the  scene  described,  he  has 
stood  silent  and  calmly  looking  on.  His 
eye  now  wanders  over  the  ground,  apparently 
in  search  of  an  object. 

A  small  convolvulus— known  as  the 
"  prairie  gourd" — is  lying  at  his  feet.  It 
is  globe-shaped,  about  the  size  of  an  orange, 
and  not  unlike  one  in  colour.  He  stoops 
and  takes  it  up.  He  seems  to  examine  it 
with  great  care,  balancing  it  upon  his  hand, 
as  though  he  was  calculating  its  weight ! 


296  THE    SCALP-HUNTEKS. 

What  does  he  intend  to  do  with  this? 
Will  he  fling  it  up,  and  send  his  bullet  through 
it  in  the  air?     What  else? 

His  motions  are  watched  in  silence. 
Nearly  all  the  scalp-hunters— sixty  or  seventy 
— are  on  the  ground.  Seguin,  only,  with 
the  Doctor  and  a  few  men,  is  engaged 
some  distance  off  pitching  a  tent.  Garey 
stands  upon  one  side,  slightly  elated  with 
his  triumph;  but  not  without  feelings  of 
apprehension  that  he  may  yet  be  beaten. 
Old  Kube  has  gone  back  to  the  fire ;  and 
is  roasting  another  rib. 

The  gourd  seems  to  satisfy  the  Indian — 
for  whatever  purpose  he  intends  it.  A  long 
piece  of  bone — the  thigh  joint  of  the  war- 
eagle  ^  hangs  suspended  over  his  breast.  It 
is  curiously  carved,  and  pierced  with  holes 
like  a  musical  instrument.     It  is  one. 

He  places  this  to  his  lips — covering  the 
holes  with  his  fingers.  He  sounds  three 
notes— oddly  inflected — but  loud  and  sharp. 


THE   SCALP-HUNTERS.  297 

He  drops  the  instrument  again,  and  stands 
looking  eastward  into  the  woods.  The  eyes 
of  all  present  are  bent  in  the  same  direction. 
The  hunters,  influenced  by  a  mysterious 
curiosity,  remain  silent ;  or  speak  only  in  low 
mutterings. 

Like  an  echo,  the  three  notes  are 
answered  by  a  similar  signal !  It  is  evident 
that  the  Indian  has  a  comrade  in  the 
woods;  yet  not  one  of  the  band  seems  to 
know  aught  of  him  ;  or  his  comrade.  Yes 
— one  does.     It  is  Rube. 

'*  Look'ee  hyur  boyees  !'^  cries  he,  squint- 
ing over  his  shoulders.  "  I'U  stake  this  rib 
agin  a  griskin  o'  poor  bull,  that  'ee'll  see 
the  puttiest  gal  as'ee  ever  set  yur  eyes 
on. 

There  is  no  reply — we  are  gazing  too 
intently  for  the  expected  arrival. 

A  rustling  is  heard,  as  of  some  one  part- 
ing the  bushes — the  tread  of  a  light  foot — 
the    snapping   of  twigs.     A  bright    object 


298  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

appears  among  the  leaves.  Some  one  is 
coming  through  the  under Avood.  It  is  a 
woman ! 

It  is  an  Indian  girl,  attired  in  a  singular 
and  picturesque  costume. 

She  steps  out  of  the  bushes ;  and  comes 
boldly  towards  the  crowd.  All  eyes  are 
turned  upon  her,  with  looks  of  wonder  and 
admiration.  We  scan  her  face  and  fiojure 
and  her  striking  attire. 

She  is  dressed  not  unlike  the  Indian  him- 
self ;  and  there  is  a  resemblance  in  other 
respects.  The  tunic  worn  by  the  girl  is 
of  finer  materials — of  fawn  skin.  It  is  richly 
trimmed;  and  worked  Avith  split  quills,  stained 
to  a  variety  of  bright  colours.  It  hangs  to 
the  middle  of  the  thighs,  ending  in  a  fringe 
work  of  shells,  that  tinkle  as  she  moves. 

Her  limbs  are  wrapped  in  leggings  of 
scarlet  cloth,  fringed  like  the  tunic,  and 
reaching  to  the  ankles,  where  they  meet  the 
flaps  of  her  moccasons.   These  last  are  white, 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  299 

embroidered  with  stained  quills,  and  fitting 
closely  to  her  small  feet. 

A  belt  of  wampum  closes  the  tunic  on 
her  waist — exhibiting  the  globular  develop- 
ments of  a  full-grown  bosom,  and  the 
undulating  outlines  of  a  womanly  person. 
Her  head-dress  is  similar  to  that  worn  by 
her  companion,  but  smaller  and  lighter  ; 
and  her  hair,  like  his,  hangs  loosely  down, 
reaching  almost  to  the  ground !  Her  neck, 
throat,  and  part  of  her  bosom  are  nude,  and 
clustered  over  with  bead-strings  of  various 
colours. 

The  expression  of  her  countenance  is 
high  and  noble.  Her  eye  is  oblique.  The 
lips  meet  with  a  double  curve,  and  the 
throat  is  full  and  rounded.  Her  complexion 
is  Indian  ;  but  a  crimson  hue  struggling 
through  the  brown  upon  her  cheek,  gives 
that  pictured  expression  to  her  countenance, 
that  may  be  observed  in  the  quadroon  of  the 
West  Indies. 


300  THE    SCALP-HUNTEES. 

She  is  a  girl,  thougli  full  grown,  and 
boldly  developed — a  type  of  health  and 
savage  beauty. 

As  she  approaches,  the  men  murmur  their 
admiration.  There  are  hearts  beating  under 
hunting  shirts,  that  rarely  deign  to  dream 
of  the  charms  of  woman. 

I  am  struck,  at  this  moment,  with  the 
appearance  of  the  young  trapper — Garey. 
His  face  has  fallen — the  blood  has  forsaken 
his  cheeks — his  lips  are  white  and  compressed, 
and  dark  rings  have  formed  around  his 
eyes !  They  express  anger ;  but  there  is  still 
another  meaning  in  them- 

Is  it  j  ealousy  ?     Yes  1 

He  has  stepped  behind  one  of  his  com- 
rades, as  if  he  did  not  wish  to  be  seen. 
One  hand  is  playing  involuntarily  with  the 
handle  of  his  knife !  The  other  grasps  the 
barrel  of  his  gun,  as  though  he  would  crush 
it  between  his  fingers ! 

The  girl  comes  up.     The  Indian  hands 


THE    SCALP- HUNTERS.  301 

her  the  gourd,  muttering  some  words  in  an 
unknown  tongue — unknown  at  least  to  me. 
She  takes  it  without  making  any  reply,  and 
walks  off  toward  the  spot,  where  Rube  had 
stood— which  has  been  pointed  out  to 
her  by  her  companion. 

She  reaches  the  tree ;  and  halts  in  front  of 
it — facing  round,  as  the  trapper  had  done. 

There  was  something  so  dramatic,  so 
theatrical,  in  the  whole  proceeding,  that,  up 
to  the  present  time,  we  had  all  stood  waiting 
for  the  denouement  in  silence.  Now  we 
knew  what  it  was  to  be ;  and  the  men  began 
to  talk. 

"  He's  a'goin  to  shoot  the  gourd  from  the 
hand  of  the  gal,"  suggested  a  hunter. 

"  No  great  shot  after  all,"  added  another 
and  indeed  this  was  the  silent  opinion 
of  most  on  the  ground. 

"  Wagh?  it  don't  beat  Garey  if  he  diz  hit 
it,"  exclaimed  a  third. 

What  was  our  amazement,  at  seeing  the 

VOL.   I.  p 


302  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

girl  fling  off  her  plumed  bonnet — place  the 
gourd  upon  her  head — fold  her  arms  over  her 
bosom — and  stand,  fronting  us,  as  calm  and 
immobile,  as  if  she  had  been  carved  upon 
the  tree ! 

There  was  a  murmur  in  the  crowd.  The 
Indian  was  raising  his  rifle  to  take  aim, 
when  a  man  rushed  forward  to  prevent  him. 
It  was  Garey ! 

"  No,  yer  don't  1  No !  "  cried  he,  clutching 
the  levelled  rifle;  "  she's  deceived  me^  that's 
plain;  but  I  won't  see  the  gal  that  once 
loved  me,  or  said  she  did,  in  the  trap  that-a- 
way.  No !  Bill  Garey  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand 
by,  and  see  it." 

"  What  is  this?*'  shouted  the  Indian  in 
a  voice  of  thunder.  "  Who  dares  to  inter- 
rupt me?'* 

''  I  dares,"  replied  Garey.  "  She's  you'rn 
now,  I  suppose.  You  may  take  her  whar 
ye  like;  and  take  this  too,"  continued  he, 
tearing  off  the  embroidered  pipe  case,  and 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  303 

iiinging  it  at  the  Indian's  feet ;  "  but  ye're 
not  a-goin  to  shoot  her  down,  whiles  I 
stand  by." 

"By  what  right  do  you  interrupt  me? 
My  sister  is  not  afraid,  and — " 

"  Your  sister  !'^ 

"  Yes — my  sister." 

"And  is  yon  gal  your  sister?"  eagerly 
inquired  Garey,  his  manner  and  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  all  at  once  chano^ino:. 

"  She  is.     I  have  said,  she  is." 

"And  are  you  El  Sol?" 

"  I  am.i' 

"  I  ask  your  pardon;  but — " 

"  I  pardon  you.     Let  me  proceed!" 

"  0,  sir,  do  not— no !  no !  She  is  your  sister, 
and  I  know  you  have  the  right,  but  thar's 
no  needcessity.  I  have  heerd  of  your 
shootin'.  I  give  in  you  kin  beat  me.  For 
God's  sake,  do  not  risk  it — as  you  care  for 
her,  do  not ! " 


304  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

^'  There  is  no  risk.     I  will  show  you." 

''No,  no.  If  you  must  then,  let  me!  I 
will  hold  it.  0,  let  me ! "  stammered  the 
hunter  in  tones  of  entreaty. 

"Hilloo  Billee!"  What's  the  dratted  rum- 
pus?" cried  Kube,  coming  up.  "  Hang  it, 
man !  let's  see  the  shot.  I've  heern  o'  it 
afore.  Don't  be  skeert,  ye  fool !  he'U  do  it 
like  a  breeze — he  will !" 

And  as  the  old  trapper  said  this,  he 
caught  his  comrade  by  the  arm,  and  slung 
him  round  out  of  the  Indian's  way. 

The  girl,  during  all  this,  had  stood  stiU — 
seemingly  not  knowing  the  cause  of  the 
interruption.  Garey's  back  was  turned  to 
her  ;  and  the  distance — with  two  years  of 
separation — doubtless  prevented  her  from 
recognising  him. 

Before  Garey  could  turn  to  interpose 
himself,  the  rifle  was  at  the  Indian's  shoul- 
der and  levelled !     His  finger  was  on  the 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  305 

trigger,  and  his  eye  glanced  through  the 
sights.  It  was  too  late  to  interfere.  Any 
attempt  at  that  might  bring  about  the 
dreaded  result.  The  hunter,  as  he  turned, 
saw  this ;  and,  halting  in  his  tracks,  stood 
straining  and  silent. 

It  was  a  moment  of  terrible  suspense  to 
all  of  us — a  moment  of  intense  emotions. 
The  silence  was  profound.  Every  breath 
seemed  suspended.  Every  eye  was  fixed 
on  the  yellow  object,  not  larger,  I  have  said, 
than  an  orange.  0  God !  wiU  the  shot 
never  come? 

It  came.  The  flash— the  crack — the 
stream  of  fire — the  wild  hurrah — the  forward 
rush — were  all  simultaneous  things.  We 
saw  the  shivered  globe  fly  oiF.  The  girl 
was  still  upon  her  feet— she  was  safe ! 

I  ran  with  the  rest.  The  smoke  for  a 
moment  blinded  me.  I  heard  the  shrill 
notes  of  the  Indian  whistle.  I  looked  before 
me.     The  girl  had  disappeared! 


306        •  THE    SCALP-HUNTERS. 

We  ran  on  to  the  spot  where  she  had 
stood.  We  heard  a  rustling  in  the  under- 
wood— a  departing  footstep.  We  knew  it 
was  she  ;  but,  guided  by  an  instinct  of  deli- 
cacy, and  a  knowledge  that  it  would  be  con- 
trary to  the  wish  of  her  brother,  no  one 
followed  her. 

We  found  the  fragments  of  the  calabash — 
strewed  over  the  ground.  We  found  the 
leaden  mark  upon  them.  The  bullet  itself 
was  buried  in  the  bark  of  the  tree ;  and  one 
of  the  hunters  commenced  digging  it  out 
with  the  point  of  his  bowie. 

When  we  turned  to  go  back,  we  saw  that 
the  Indian  had  walked  away,  and  now  stood 
chatting  easily  and  familiarly  with  Seguin. 

As  we  re-entered  the  camp-ground,  I  ob- 
served Garey  stoop  and  pick  up  a  shining 
object.  It  was  the  gage  d! armour^  which  he 
carefully  re-adjusted  around  his  neck,  in  its 
wonted  position. 


THE    SCALP-HUNTERS.  307 

From  his  look,  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  handled  it,  it  was  plain  that  he  now  re- 
garded that  souvenir  with  more  reverence 
than  ever. 


END   OF   VOL  I. 


LONDON ; 
Printed  by  Myers  &  Co.,  22,  Tavistock-street,  Covent  Garden. 


v_*/ 


lU 


^ 


:^^ 


4//.: 


-«;at£^Y- 


^ 


r^ 


UNivERsrrv  of  illinois-urbana 


3  0112  056677450 


